Something Changed
by theladyfucshia
Summary: Wendy Darling is grown up, and has been taken captive on board the Jolly Roger. Through her converstaions with the ship's ever enigmatic captain, we learn of Hook's story, thoughts, and disturbingly, his growing fondness for his prisoner. Now Complete.
1. The Nursery Revisited

Chapter 1

The Nursery Revisited

Wendy Moira Angela Darling was very nearly grown up, and she knew it, and she dreaded it. According to her peers, all that was needed to seal official adulthood was a twenty-first birthday and a marriage, and although Wendy herself had, thankfully, not experienced either, it would only be a matter of a year or so before her time would come, and she would have to resign herself to a lifetime of quiet, upright boredom, as proper society expects of married ladies. Wendy was not, at this point, to know about the events that would soon take her away entirely from this stiff-necked world of dinner dances; indeed, her yet-to-be-had adventure came about in rather an unexpected fashion.

It had been a very dull evening. The party seemed to have dragged on for years, each new face, each potential suitor all merging into one homogenous blur. Wendy's cheeks were sore from smiling and her feet were tired from dancing the same steps over and over again. Her parents, having 'her best interests at heart', had introduced her to a string of well bred and moneyed young men; most of whom Wendy found quite tedious. How, she wondered, could it have come to this? To be dancing repetitive waltzes with repetitive men who asked polite, hollow questions without caring about the response? After the Darlings had arrived home, she said goodnight to her father, kissed her mother on the cheek and wearily climbed the stairs.

As she passed the nursery- now, of course, no longer where she slept- she paused. That room, with all its memories still perfectly intact, lay empty apart from when it was cleaned. John and Michael had their own chambers, Wendy hers; but sometimes she liked to steal into the old room and sit on her bed, and remember. Occasionally she would feel a shade of her childhood brush past her as she gazed out of the open window, and she would shudder and think it was only a chill from the night air. Her mother and father knew nothing of her tendency to do this, and, truth be told, they would have been concerned for their daughter if they were aware of her long hours of reminiscence at such a young age; for memories, as Peter would say, are for the old; not for girls with a lifetime to look forward to. As Wendy hovered by the door, the party rankled fresh in her mind.

'Tonight', she thought, 'I'll sleep in my old bed.'

This small act of rebellion against adulthood thrilled her, and she ran to fetch her night things. It is a good thing for us that she did, or this story would be a great deal more uneventful. At any rate, soon she was in the nursery; somewhat cramped by her child's bed, but falling inexorably asleep nevertheless.

Her eyes took in the painted ceiling, the gas lamps she no longer needed to be turned on (well bred young ladies must not be afraid of silly things like the dark), and the large window, its curtains undulating softly in the slight breeze. It was not long before her weariness was enveloping her. Just as she was gently floating in-between waking and dreaming, her vision drifted out of the window and into the London sky.

Something twinkled there and she blinked.

As tiny a glint as it was, Wendy was sure she could see the form of a boat, getting closer and closer. She frowned sleepily and shifted, believing it to be only a half-dream; but a little knot of hope caught in her chest. Was that really what she thought it was? As she waited with baited breath for the ship (for it was by this time too big to be called a boat) to approach, her mind raced. Surely it could not be that Peter had come back for her after their last meeting? That visit to the Neverland, four whole years ago, had ended with Peter saying she was: 'getting awfully big, but thank you for doing the spring cleaning'.

Now Wendy was sat up in her bed, her heart pounding, watching the ship she knew so well sailing gracefully through the air towards her room.

'I'm too old for this, I really am; Peter would be disgusted by my age, I am nearly twenty! And all those adventures- do I really want to fight pirates now?' But her objections and doubts were ebbing in the face of the prospect of one last, glorious chance to be a child before the inevitable march of marriage, children, money and tea parties.

The ship had reached the window now, and Peter was clearly grappling with the gang-plank, which was eventually passed down over the balcony. Moments passed before anything happened, and Wendy was in an agony of excitement at seeing the boy again. But it was not his silhouette that now appeared on the plank, walking languidly towards her; and Wendy felt a prick of fear begin to rise at the back of her neck. She recognised this figure, she knew his walk- it had haunted her sleeping hours, but it couldn't be-

A gloved hand was placed over her mouth and a chillingly familiar voice whispered silkily in her ear,

'Good evening, my beauty. It has been _far _too long.'


	2. Reintroductions

Chapter 2

Reintroductions

Wendy knew better than to struggle or to attempt to cry out, for the man who held her was permanently armed, and, she was sure, would not flinch at tearing her to pieces. She heard him mutter an order to faceless minions and before she knew it, had been carried out of her bed and into the great ship that hovered hugely at the nursery window. Dropped to the floor and shivering with confusion and terror, her nostrils twitched as a vast, snaggle-toothed pirate, reeking of rum and decay, bound her hands, before dragging her upright and leading her to a small room with a makeshift bed in one corner. He thrust her inside and, before she could turn around, had slammed the door shut and locked it. Wendy felt quite wretched; although she knew of the futility of her action, she shook the door, shouting and banging with her fists upon its unyielding panels. When she had exhausted herself and was near sobbing with frustration, she threw herself onto the bed. What on earth was she going to do, captured and taken prisoner? How could she have been so foolish as to wish to go back to the Neverland; why on earth had she decided to sleep in the nursery? As these thoughts whirled round and round she fell into a doze, before sleeping fitfully until morning.

When she awoke, Wendy could hear the sound of waves crashing in the distance and feel the bed beneath her bob gently up and down. Blinking and opening her eyes slowly, it took a moment for her to remember where she was. Once she had done so, she cried a little, and we must not condemn her for that, for you see it had all been an awful shock to her. When Wendy had finished crying she felt much better, as one tends to; and she rose and took a proper look around the little room. To her immense surprise, the door opened when she tried it, and she crept out into a long corridor. She could hear the pirates in the distance, cursing and guffawing in equal measure. As she turned a corner, she bumped straight into a stocky, middle-aged pirate with little round spectacles on his rubicund face.

'Mr. Smee!' exclaimed Wendy. This was a pleasant surprise. Smee was probably the only pirate in the world for whom she felt anything other than hatred and contempt. He had always shown unthinking kindness to everyone he met.

'Miss Wendy!' replied the buccaneer, straightening his glasses. 'Why, I was just on me way to fetch yeh.'

'Fetch me? Where are you going to take me, Mr. Smee?'

'Oh, the Captain's requested to see yeh in his cabin. I'll be takin' yeh there.' And he escorted her out onto the deck, up a small flight of stairs and to an ornately carved door which bore the legend 'Captain Jas. Hook' in gold paint. Wendy was feeling horribly nervous, as one may well expect; she knew more about the terrible man that awaited her than anyone except Peter and, of course, Hook himself. Smee knocked on the door and announced her in his most official voice, which was unfortunately still much more benevolent than befitted a pirate,

'Miss Wendy Darling to see yeh, sir.'

The voice which replied was as far from the cheery Smee as it is possible to imagine. It was a cold educated near-growl which spoke out now:

'Send her in.'

Let us now take a look at the events which have taken us up to this foreboding scene from the perspective of the notorious Captain Hook, whose actions have been few and enigmatic thus far. Aside from his brief appearance in the nursery, the last we heard of him he had been swallowed up by the crocodile, and was thought to have been quite dead. Jas Hook's escape from the beast was truly heroic, but Wendy will ask him questions about that in a moment, and he will answer them, so we shall skip forward in the Captain's story to the place where he decides to kidnap the young lady. The reason for his doing this is a secret known only to Hook himself; what we can know, however, is that at the exact moment that Wendy was dancing a two-step with a young man named Ernest Drudge and wishing herself a million miles away, Hook was making ready to sail the Jolly Roger to London.

'Hoist the main sail, ye doltish scugs!' he cried with bravado to his men. Like dogs they obeyed him. It was truly a sight to behold, the enormous vessel rising into the sky as though it were mere vapour. Hook and his rogues had spent many weeks faerie hunting to collect enough dust to cover all the ship, but now, on board the deck, the crew were jubilantly shouting their happy thoughts to one another as they drifted into the air.

'Keel-haulin' Pan's boys!' yelled one

'Givin' em twenty lashes o' the Cat!' barked another.

There were other happinesses too, most of them too crude to repeat in print. Suffice to say it was but a few hours until the Jolly Roger was floating majestically over Marylebone, and would soon be at the Darling's house in Bloomsbury. It may well be wondered how Hook came to know of Wendy's whereabouts, and I am afraid to say the truth is rather brutal, but, again, the girl will ask him of this very soon, and he will explain it in his own, well chosen words.

As Hook's men fitted the gangplank over the nursery balcony, the Captain himself was putting the finishing touches to his attire. Some may call him vain, but all true gentlemen have a sense of occasion, and Hook was nothing if not a gentleman, even if he no longer knew it. Wearing a long crimson coat with gold brocade, a large feathered hat in the style of a cavalier and, of course, a well polished hook, he felt suitably ready to face a lady. As he walked down the plank and into her room there was a glimmer of a moment in which he lost himself, and a thousand memories flooded his mind with England, with school, with classmates, house competitions, cricket, high tea… He breathed and steeled himself. That was dead; that was before he was Captain James Hook, the only man Long John ever feared. Inside the room all was dark, but he could make out her figure, frozen with shock, on the bed. Wendy Darling was different to the little girl he remembered. Older. He clamped his gloved hand over her mouth in as chivalrous a fashion as he could muster and motioned to his waiting men to have her taken on board. Then he removed a piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket, on which was written:

'_My dear Mr and Mrs Darling,_

_I have taken the liberty of removing your daughter and placing her in my care. Rest assured I will do my utmost to make sure she is happy, well treated and safe, and there is no need for you to be afraid for her. In due course, I intend to bring her back, and will never trouble any of you again. My sincerest apologies for this rather barbarous business, I fear it is the only way._

_I remain yours victoriously,_

_Capt. Jas Hook esq._

_P.S- Any attempts to follow me, or report this incident to the relevant authorities will unfortunately result in the untimely death of your daughter. I do advise you to be sensible._'

Calm as an evening breeze, Jas Hook boarded the Jolly Roger and went to his cabin.

'I don't believe in faeries', he remarked bitterly. A light went out.

Hook was not concerned for Miss Darling's safety, his crew knew to put the lady in her cabin, but not to mistreat her or they would have him to answer to- it was of the utmost importance that she should not be harmed. He sat heavily on the plush armchair at his desk and, for a time, was lost in thought; his piercing blue eyes soberly gazing as though focussed on something that wasn't there. Memories. Memories plagued James Hook, they enticed him, tortured him, obsessed him. There could be no end to them, they were always there; reminders of the life he should by rights and by birth have had. But he had made his choice. The long lost voices of his homeland were no longer shadows of home; his home was this cabin, piracy was his life. At first, Hook had been a proper privateer, he had owned a letter of marque and was, initially, legitimate in the eyes of the British law. Inspired by the likes of Francis Drake, the gentleman pirate, he had wanted notorious exploits to boast of, bravery and good form the like of which had never been seen. But he had always lied to himself, and as he had degenerated further and further, the horrible awareness that a cultured criminal is still a criminal had smothered him. What would his house master have said? Hook was in torment.

Many hours later, the man awoke with a half- empty bottle of rum by his side and a headache which pounded behind his right temple. Judging by the light it would soon be dawn, and, in the morning, he would want Wendy Darling to be able to wander the ship at will. Wincing, he groggily made his way to her cabin door and unlocked it, then he stumbled back to his own rooms to snatch a few more troubled hours of rest before morning.


	3. Dark and Sinister Man

Chapter 3

Dark and Sinister Man

At the sound of Hook's voice ordering Smee to 'Send her in', Wendy shivered. Whenever she had come face to face with the blackavized countenance of the captain before, Peter had been with her. Alone and defenceless, she was terrified- although she did a sterling job of not showing it. Her head held high, Wendy entered the room with dignity. The sight of him made her blood rush as though caught in a storm. He was exactly as she had remembered. Tall and debonair and exquisitely dressed, his long black mane of hair was shining like jet and a triumphant twitch of a smile played across his face. His eyes (which had always had a strange power over Wendy she could never explain as a child) were the same icy forget-me-not blue, and they were looking at her with an expression of interest as he stood up to greet her in a genteel fashion.

'Well well my beauty, tis a pleasure to see you so haughty and collected. One might have thought you would have shied at the sight of me.'

Wendy said nothing, so Hook continued.

'I must say, you have changed a great deal since last we met. You have grown up.'

Wendy bowed her head, and muttered something about not being able to help it.

'Alas, my dear, none of us can,' Hook sighed theatrically. 'But that is the way of it. Now,' he motioned for her to sit down 'I suppose you're wondering why the devil I wanted to speak with you. The truth is, I summoned you to my quarters in order to allay any anxieties you may have about being here. I do not wish to hurt you.'

'Why did you bring me here then?' asked Wendy.

'I feared you would quiz me thus' said the captain with a faux-tragic air. 'And, harsh as it may sound, I shall not tell thee. Plotters are not generally in the habit of sharing their best laid plans with their enemies- you _are_ my enemy, I suppose?'

Wendy was bemused by such a question but nodded vigourously.

'Well then you will, I hope, understand my reticence to give you my reasons for thy presence on board the Jolly Roger. I would be more than happy, however, to answer any other questions you may have.'

'What are you going to do with me?'

'Whatever you desire- except return you home, of course. You must think of yourself not as some wretched prisoner, but as an esteemed guest.'

'Retained by force?'

'How very cynical of you, my beauty,' Hook raised an eyebrow, examining Wendy for a while before sitting down himself. 'I was hoping you might overlook such vulgar necessities. Coffee?'

Wendy politely declined; she never had cared for coffee. To her, it tastes of burnt. She spent a few moments watching the pirate captain, wrestling with a thousand questions she wanted to ask him. Eventually her curiosity wrestled down her pride, perhaps a sign she was not yet completely grown up.

'I thought you were dead- how did you survive the crocodile?'

Captain Hook took a sip from his cup and gazed into it.

'That, my dear, is quite a story. As I'm sure you'll remember, Pan'(he spat the name) 'saw to it that I was cast into the jaws of the beast, and swallowed. I hear that it was a widespread rumour I had been killed: "Thus" it was written by one, "perished James Hook". And, I suppose, he was virtually correct, for when I eventually regained control of the ship I found most of my possessions had already been given to my inheritor or sold; and even some of my clothes had been unceremoniously ripped up and made into a sort of horrid child's costume!'

Wendy blushed and wondered whether the captain knew of her own hand in that particular affront.

'At any rate, after having been swallowed up by that scaly brute, I remembered me- and this wondrous hook of mine- and I slashed at the monster from inside, slitting its accursed throat. After carving my way out, I swam to shore and waited for a week or so on land until Pan returned with the Jolly Roger. I can only guess that the shallow-witted youth tired of piracy quickly; it was not long before he had rounded up a new collection of whelps and was living on the island. I stole back to my ship to find that Pan had been circulating the rumour he had killed me, vainest of boys! My cabin was a disgraceful mess.'

'What did you do then?'

'Then, my beauty, I gathered together the two surviving members of my old crew- Gentleman Starkey and, of course, Smee; and we sailed off to my old haunts around the Spanish Main to find new dogs. But I had not forgotten Pan, nor my grievances against him. Twas but a few months before we came back here, and I have been fighting him ever since.'

'But he'd forgotten you' said Wendy, puzzled. 'The first time I came back to Neverland I mentioned you and he couldn't remember who you were. He said "I always forget them after I've killed them."'

Hook looked bitterly out of the window. 'The arrogance of the boy never ceases. He had, indeed, forgotten me when first we crossed swords again. That was many moons ago now. I think that afterward, however, he still believed, or pretended at least-'

'-It is all the same to him' interjected Wendy

'Quite. He still believed that he had killed Captain Hook, and refuses to call me by that name, for I am dead to him.'

'What does he call you now?'

'"Man". "Dark and Sinister Man" sometimes. "Old Man" other times.' Hook sighed. 'I suppose he is not wrong in that sense.' And he sighed again, his eyes fixed on the grains of his coffee cup. Wendy felt increasingly uncomfortable with this melancholy, so she asked:

'How did you find me?' At her question, Hook seemed to snap back into life.

'My dear girl, such subject matter may appal you rather.'

'Go on.'

'Very well. As I recall correctly, Pan took you back to Neverland after your first visit?'

'Twice.'

'Twice, was it? Anyway, the irritating little wisp of a fairy that used to follow him about in your time died soon after I was swallowed by the croc, and Pan got himself a new one from somewhere.'

'I remember; there was a new fairy the second time.'

'Indeed, she came to your very house. Well, you see, when it first occurred to me to bring you here, I knew I'd have to find out where you live. Fairies are dull, stupid creatures but they have a first rate sense of direction, and I…extracted from this one the whereabouts of your home.'

'She guided you there?' Wendy was incredulous.

'She did.'

'But why would she do that? Peter would hate her for such a thing.'

'Ah. She wasn't exactly what one might call forthcoming. I had to resort to certain threats to make her agree to guide me to you.'

'What kind of threats?' whispered Wendy, nervously.

'I told her I would gainsay the existence of fairies systematically and relentlessly until she told me.'

Wendy was horrified- 'but that's simply monstrous!'

'Needs must, my beauty. She agreed to guide me to your home, and did a good job of it.'

'And…' Wendy's voice trembled slightly 'Where is she now?'

'Now?' a glimmer of amusement lighted on the pirate's lips as he answered. 'Why, she's dead, now.'

'You killed her?'

'I did nothing of the sort. But after your removal last night I was in a philosophical mood. In my musings I may have touched upon the subject of fairies, and I may have voiced the conclusion of such contemplations in a denial of their corporeal actuality.' Hook looked as proud of his sophistry as Wendy was disgusted by it. A silence ensued, in which Hook seemed to gauge her thoughts.

'You are shocked, Miss Darling. Doubtless you would fain have leave of me. Well then, you may go.'

The suddenness of this command surprised Wendy, but she rose to leave. As she did so, she noticed the eyes of the captain were fixed on her once more.


	4. No Good At All

A/N- Sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up, I've been trying for the past few days but for some reason it wouldn't work. At any rate, I hope you find this worth the wait... 

Chapter 4

No Good At All

Hook watched Wendy go from his cabin, then he rose and took from his desk a log book. We will not be so prying as to read what he wrote there, but it did nothing for his mood, which clings to him as a black cloud, gloomy and bitter. Pity James Hook. There are few men in the world as lonely as he is at this moment. For all his bravado, his pervasive sense of _noblesse oblige_, even for all his tyrannical cruelty, he is as sad as winter rain and as dissatisfied with himself as Peter Pan is otherwise; and in spite of his exultation in having successfully kidnapped Wendy Darling, something in the girl had provoked these terrible feelings even more acutely. Hook did not know why she of all people should make him feel so bleak. Something in her eyes, maybe…He was lost in thought a moment or two, until in caressing his hook (a habit he developed long ago), his hand slipped and he bled. Some of us may have heard that the only thing Hook shied at was the sight of his own blood, which was of an unusually thick consistency, and bore a strange and sickly yellowish hue. Disgusted both by his spiritual and physical self, therefore, he is trapped in the darkest of worlds.

Outside, where the shape of the Jolly Roger was but a tiny speck on the vast blue horizon, a boy sped through the air with the flickering movements of a sparrow. He ducked and dived, allowing the spray of the sea to catch his bare feet; and ran his fingers through the glossy folds of water beneath him. Such joy had he in flying that he neither knew nor cared where he was going; he was revelling in himself and in life. Flying low, so close to the water's surface that an inch or two more would see him soaked; he watched a shadowy figure swim upwards towards him, gradually taking the form of a mermaid. When she was close enough to be made out fully, they raced along; the mermaid on her back just below the surface, swimming as fast as he was flying. Presently, she began to speak to him; but her voice was blocked by water. The boy halted suddenly, hovering gently over the waves, and the mermaid surfaced. She spoke to him, then, and told him of the things her sisters had seen in a strange, clicky, high-pitched language. The boy said nothing but listened intently until she dived down into the blue, and her form blurred and darkened as she swam away. Then he rose up into the air and flew once more, but his time with a palpable sense of purpose.

What about Wendy? As for the girl, she was sitting on the bed in her cabin, as contemplative as the man she had just left. He intrigued and appalled her. She didn't fathom how anyone could be so flamboyantly vicious, yet somehow curiously sympathetic. Secretly, Wendy had been flattered that Hook had wanted to speak with her merely to put her at ease; that had been courteous, kind, even. But this was a man who callously and deliberately disposed of fairies without so much as a thought, who had pitted himself ruthlessly against a little boy, who had shown no mercy on the high seas, and no remorse for any of it. After what could have been hours in silent thought, a knock on the door interrupted Wendy in her reverie. It was Smee, who had brought her a plate of food, and some clothes roughly her size.

'Captain says he'll be callin on yeh at tea time, miss.' said the cheery bosun, and he bumbled off, humming to himself somewhat tunelessly. Wendy was not at all buoyed at the prospect of another meeting with Captain Hook, he, quite understandably, made her uneasy. Still, he was the only thing around here that passed for company- she thought it highly unlikely Hook's crew would prove scintillating conversationalists. (Actually, Wendy was wrong in this respect, Gentleman Starkey had been a renowned storyteller in his day, but she was not to know this). After she had eaten and dressed herself, she waited for Hook to call, and tried to muster all the courage she had. To her annoyance, she found herself impatient and curiously nervous; fidgeting and repeatedly checking her attire. It was rather a beautiful dress, only simple muslin suitable for wearing in the day, but quite old-fashioned.

It was, indeed, a long time before Wendy heard any sign of the captain; and in the meantime she contemplated her best course of action. Should she run away, or try to run away; she would likely be drowned by mermaids, or recaptured by Hook's eagle-eyed men. She thought of waiting for Peter to rescue her, but of course, he didn't know she was here, and Wendy had no means of conveying her presence to him. Besides, something in her rankled at the thought of being rescued by a little boy. Wendy decided that the only option was to demand -or at least try to persuade- Hook to take her back home. She had just finished smoothing her hair for the umpteenth time (and feeling treacherous for doing so), when the captain announced himself with a metallic rap on her door.

'Come in' she said. Hook obeyed and stood before her, resplendent in crimson and gold.

'Miss Darling, you look very well. I trust the dress meets with your satisfaction?'

Wendy nodded her assent unthinkingly and then shifted uncomfortably. She was furious with herself. She wanted to command that Hook let her go; to stand proud and defiant, instead of nodding demurely and staring embarrassedly at the floor. She steeled herself.

'Captain Hook-' she paused. 'Captain Hook, I must request you cease in your attentions and release me. I wish to go home; you have no right to bring me here against my will. As a gentleman, sir, it ill befits you to behave in this way. Take me back to London.'

Hook stared at her briefly as though she were an eccentric drunkard who had shouted obscenities at a royal funeral, before laughing incredulously.

'Miss Darling, you give me too much credit- why, pray, do you appeal to me as a gentleman? Am I not a pirate? Am I not the scourge of the seven seas; the only man the sea-cook feared? Aye, it ill befits 'a gentleman' to snatch up a young, unmarried lady and take her against her will on board a pirate ship. But I gave up the claim to such a title the day I took to sea. I am sorry to disappoint you, my beauty, but I will behave as befits my current status: that is, I have no intention of returning you home, nor will any amount of pleading or threatening induce me to do so.'

As self-deprecating as it was arrogant, Wendy was nonplussed and annoyed at this response.

'Sir, your fatalistic acceptance of your role dishonours you. It is weak.' she retorted.

Hook's eyes flashed fire for a second, then he gathered himself again.

'Tis not cowardice to be realistic, Miss Darling; quite the opposite. To convince myself of virtues I palpably do not have would be bad form indeed.'

'But to excuse yourself from virtue on account of your lack of virtue is nonsense, sir.'

'Not at all, it is the most natural thing in the world. If I have not goodness in me, I cannot be expected to act upon it.'

Wendy had a feeling she was getting into rather hot water, but she pressed on nevertheless. 'Have you no goodness in you at all?' she asked. Hook took a long time before replying, and this time his voice was less harsh.

'Maybe once I did have a grain or two. But my life and actions have taken me down a different route, and now, alas, _"I am in blood stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o'er."_ And that is the end of it, Miss Darling. I did not come here to be judged.' He said the last a little petulantly and folded his arms. Wendy was struck by his defensive similarity to a child and could not help but smile.

'I am not judging you, captain. I asked an honest question of you.'

'That's as may be, but your eye has a reproof I do not like.'

'Why; does it make you remorseful?'

'Not remorseful. Guilty, perhaps. Condemned. Those two feelings I can narrowly cope with. But even your gaze, Miss Darling, will not provoke remorse, for were I allow myself to feel but a single drop of that desolate emotion, I fear an entire tide would soon follow and envelop me, and then I would be no more.' He looked at the girl before him, and was struck by the sympathy written in her face.

'She pities me.' he thought to himself; and his pride buckled, and resentment oozed into its place. 'She has no right to pity me, to condescend to me; I could tear her pious little heart out at this very moment!'

It is at this point in our story that Hook got a horrible shock, for even as he- hypothetically- raised his arm to cast the blow, he became aware that he was quite as powerless to carry out such a thing as a mere babe in arms; and this thought so confused and terrified him that he was left quite speechless, staring at her. What was this? Surely…surely it could not be that for the first time since Captain Hook was Captain Hook the man was struck by _mercy_? Why, he loathed and detested that contemptible, cringing emotion. At length, he gathered himself and made to leave with gruff courtesies.

'Yes. Well. I only, ah, dropped by to ask after you, and enquire as to your needs. Is there anything you require to be more comfortable?'

'Have you any books I could read?'

'Certainly, certainly. I shall bring a selection.' He paused awkwardly, then asked 'Do you care for the Lake Poets, Miss Darling? '

'I like Coleridge a great deal, but have never been especially partial to the other two.' Hook tutted absently. 'You are a Philistine, Miss Darling. I shall have to educate you. Very well, I shall be off. Good day.' And, still looking a bit dazed, he left her.

Wendy was rather puzzled at this sudden change in his manner. On entering the room he had been poised and aloof, but his departure seemed awfully abrupt for a man so meticulous in his observance of social mores.

She did not have to wait long for the books; Smee soon turned up with a number of texts which included a collection of poems by Wordsworth, another of Southey, and _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_ by Coleridge. In addition to this, Hook had selected _Paradise Lost_, the _Odyssey_, and _The Pickwick Papers_. Wendy picked up _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_, and began to read.


	5. Daydreams and Discoveries

Chapter 5

Daydreams and Discoveries

The disturbed Captain, meanwhile, was sitting in his cabin pondering the encounter he had just had with his inner self. Truth be told, he had been sorely shaken when, looking at Miss Darling, he had realised that he could not have brought himself to raise his hook to her. Of course; she was a lady, and that changed things- Hook was always loathe to harm a lady- but this did not explain the stark revulsion that he had for a second so keenly felt at the idea of hurting the girl.

'Don't go soft on me, Bully' he whispered to himself 'Don't forget thou art Jas. Hook the ruthless.' But the more he thought of Her, the more his mettle melted into molten bronze, for, truth be told, Hook was enjoying having someone to talk to other than his fatuous bosun, who had for years and years provided a maddeningly dull and empty confidant. The Darling girl, on the other hand was articulate and educated. Yes, she was certainly refreshing; but this in itself was dangerous to Hook, who contemplated that it simply would not do to like his captive, lest he should at some future point have to be rid of her. He dismissed this idea, however, almost as soon as it had arisen in his head- it had been so long since he had liked anyone, he could scarce imagine having much future trouble in applying to Wendy the same cruel detachment he showed his crew. Still, he resolved to be vigilant; for it would be disastrous to have another hideous lapse like the one from which he had just escaped; his whole, beautiful plan could be scuppered.

Hook's proud spirit could not bear to think of what might happen if he let such a thing happen. He poured himself a glass of cognac, which restored him rather; and was soon his normal self, daydreaming idly of killing Pan. This reverie was pleasing to him and soon turned into a slumber in which he dreamt of holding down the boy's struggling form and gutting him like a fish, of slashing him from the very sky so he fell like Icarus into a crimson sea and his bone-jarring crow was sweetly, blissfully drowned forever.

Wendy was trying to read, but alas was continually distracted by her meandering thoughts, which kept on straying back to the man who had just quit her. She wondered how he'd become a pirate, and how he coped being stuck day after day in Neverland, with only his crew for company. She couldn't help but feel that his obvious charm and mental faculties were going to waste in this lifestyle. Yet, try as she may to ignore it, there was something about his savagery and brazen, physical courage that suited him, and that she found, well… exciting. And when she had caught him looking at her, his eyes had seemed to bind her to the spot with their terrible blueness. The girl shivered pleasantly and involuntarily, before continuing with her book.

'_I looked upon the rotting sea,  
And drew my eyes away ;  
I looked upon the rotting deck,  
And there the dead men lay. _

_I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;  
But or ever a prayer had gusht,  
A wicked whisper came, and made  
My heart as dry as dust._

_I closed my lids, and kept them close,  
And the balls like pulses beat ;  
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky  
Lay like a load on my weary eye,  
And the dead were at my feet._'

Tucked into this page, Wendy was interested to find a cutting from a magazine or newspaper. Curious, she unfolded the yellowed and musty-smelling sheet, and saw it had been taken from a (clearly very old) edition of the _Eton Chronicle_. On the paper was a crosshatched picture of a young boy clad in cricketing whites-unmistakably Hook. It was all in the eyes. Underneath the black and white image of the captain as a schoolboy were the words:

"_James…_(here the surname had been scratched out ), _captain of the college first cricket team._"

Underneath this was a description of a triumphant cricket match against Harrow, which had apparently been won largely because of the superior bowling and tactical prowess of the young skipper, who had "_remained, along with his team, magnanimous in victory, and uniform in Good Form._"

Wendy read the article, amazed at the sight of the captain as a boy. In her younger days, she had thought Hook too old and bad to have ever possessed such a thing as childhood. Now, beholding him with a youthful and unclouded visage, her sympathies were stirred for the man he had become. For the very first time, Wendy thought of Captain Hook not as a sinister figment of shadowy enmity, but as a real person with a real story. She resolved to ask him about it when next they met. Ever the optimist, she felt certain that at some point she would escape, be rescued, or taken back, but, seeing as she was here, and had been given an assurance of safety, Wendy thought she might as well find out as much about the fascinating man who held her here as possible, before such a time as she could work out how to get home

Of course, all this is not to say that she was much softened towards her captor; after all, she could not forget that (even ignoring his homicidal tendencies) he had taken her against her will and was holding her prisoner, however well treated she might be. But, as the discerning reader will have realised, the cogs of fate were already turning; for in finding out about Hook's past, Wendy will come to an understanding of his character; and once understanding has been established, empathy is sure to follow in one so naturally given to imagination. For now, however, let us leave the girl contemplating the pirate who has her captive, and turn to the man himself.


	6. A Reminder of My Better Self

Chapter 6

A Reminder of My Better Self

Later that evening, as the low sun was glowing like an ember, it would have been possible for an observer to have made out a sole figure on the deck, looking towards the West and emulating the melancholy of the dying day with a deep sigh. Captain Hook often stood thus to watch the sunset; to embrace his endless solitude and augment it with the consolation of beauty. We know him to be a man of contradictions, as sensitive as he is callous. It may not be a surprise, therefore, that the exquisiteness of the view before him settled around his weary heart with a poignancy that nearly made him weep, for it only served to accentuate his terrible loneliness.

'Better for Hook, perhaps, that he had never been born', he whispered glassily. A board creaked behind him and he spun round, hook raised in case it was the brat come to mock him- but it was only the Darling girl.

'What do you mean by this, creeping up on a fellow?' He hissed angrily

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you; I was just wandering the deck', Wendy said with an unmistakable look of guilt.

'Were you now? Well, it matters not. I fear I am in no sociable mood, Miss Darling, I apologise for my roughness.'

'Not at all. Um, I wanted to ask you something. Something about yourself.' Hook glanced at her. 'You see,' she continued 'I was reading one of the books you gave me, and there was a press cutting of you as a boy from your old school.'

Hook seemed to turn to stone at the mention of this; all the fire drained out of him. She knew about his school, and, in knowing, knew also of the shame he had brought on its illustrious name. Eventually he choked

'Forget that which you saw, girl, I am an Etonian no more.'

'Then why did you keep that cutting?' asked Wendy, maddeningly She could tell that Hook would lose patience eventually, but she was by this time too bent on finding out about his past to care. Hook leant on the balustrade with his head in his hand.

'Tis a reminder of my better self. I keep it to remember a time when my name was spoken by those whose respect I coveted above all others with pride, rather than fear and disgust. There. You see me now, Miss Darling, for what I truly am. An old man with nothing but pitiful nostalgia to bring me comfort.' He spoke these words woodenly, as though he were talking about someone else. Wendy moved next to him and followed his gaze into the setting sun, and for a moment the pair was silent. Then she turned to him tentatively and asked

'Captain Hook, how did you become a pirate?' The man inclined his head towards her with a look of irritated restraint.

'Miss Darling', he said with dangerous politeness, 'you are not enamouring yourself to me with such endless questions.'

'You said earlier I might ask you anything, captain.' was the quiet response. Hook looked at her, exasperated with the girl's forwardness, then sighed resignedly.

'Very well', he said, 'I can see you are not to be put off. I became a pirate, Miss Darling, because the life assigned to me by birth was, to my youthful mind, a tedious and ignoble one. I see you raise your brow, girl; doubtless you think there is little honour in piracy; but to me, as an ignorant boy, I saw the life as exciting, and demanding courage, so after my time at school, and then Oxford, I succumbed to my romantic inclinations and ran away to sea. Of course, I was never what a puritan such as thee would call a _moral_ youth, I have never, for example, understood or followed the divine mandate to 'love thine enemy', for how is one to win in life in such a degraded state of submission? However, I digress. As I was saying, I was not an ideal product of my Roman upbringing; but I did have a sense of Form, and obtained a letter of marque in order that any activities in which I partook came with the blessing of king and country. I do not baulk at saying that after a few years my greed eclipsed my desire to remain within the confines of law, and I became the pirate you see now. I served under villainous men, Miss Darling, and accumulated some of their worst attributes. Eventually I rose to become captain of this sturdy vessel, and came, in the aftermath of a squall that hit us one fateful night, to be in this accursed place, with no conception of how we got here, and no navigable way to leave.'

'When did you first meet Peter?'

'Pan?' he spat viciously 'The brat thou love so? Aye, it was only a matter of time before thou were't to ask about him, wasn't it girl?' Wendy blushed at this.

'I don't love him. I only wonder why you hate him so much you will not leave this place you call accursed, even though my presence here is proof you have the capability to do so.'

'Because I will be avenged. Because he has no fear, no humility, no conception of ought but his own brilliance. Because he is unrepentant and I will make him repent. I suppose you think I gained this hook' and he brandished the instrument lovingly, 'as the result of some gentlemanly duel in which he fairly bested me. Twas not so, Miss Darling. I shall elucidate for you.

It was not long that I and my crew had been in Neverland before we perceived this flying boy, and were duly fascinated. Some of my crew thought him to be a demon, others to be a good spirit; but his being to me was a matter of intense indifference, I only desired to be free of this island. One day, as I was reposing on deck asleep, with an alarm clock to wake me at the right hour, I felt a pricking in my thigh and awoke to find the boy hovering at me and jabbing lightly me with a dagger. "A duel sir, I challenge thee" he spoke with bravado, and I scarce had time to know what the deuce was happening, or to draw my sword, before he had swiped at my arm and cut off the hand. He laughed, did the brat, and taunted me as I scrabbled to pick up a weapon with my left hand. Flying over board, he seemed to deem it a great amusement to cast my arm, along with the clock, into the jaws of the crocodile whose demise I caused of late. We duelled then, and I will be the first to admit he is a skilled swordsman, but had I been fighting with my natural side, I should have had him many times by now. Eventually, things having reached a deadlock, he grew bored, and, rather than stay and fight to the death with honour, he flew off, with me left behind, quite powerless to give pursuit, and bleeding from the wrist. This is your beloved boy, this is your hero. How noble of him to wake a sleeping man before causing injury; how brave is he to up and fly away when he tires of fighting. At least I can thank him for giving me my beautiful claw. But I cannot forgive his insufferable cockiness, his despicable grin as he despatches enemies, and the fact that he forgets, is not haunted or even affected by their ghosts. That, Miss Darling, is why I hate him and why my very soul bays for his blood. It isn't fair: I would say it though it were with my last breath; it isn't fair.'

Wendy had listened to this story with a growing sense of unease and shame. The trouble was she could easily believe it to be true. Had Peter not, on their very first visit to Neverland, offered to wake up a sleeping pirate merely in order to kill him? As a little girl she had adored, even idolised Peter Pan and hated Hook with all the vehemence of childhood, and it was disturbing to her (as it always is in these situations) to realise that the truth of both characters was more complex. She remembered with mortification the exultation she had felt in seeing Hook fall into the crocodile's waiting mouth, as though he were devoid of humanity.

'I'm sorry' she said, lightly touching his arm, 'I didn't realise. I shan't ask you any more questions. Sorry.'

'Oh, no need for apologies' said Hook, who seemed exorcised after imparting his tale. 'I am still a villain, my beauty, I know that full well. But if thou wilt not object, I would have thee stay with me a while, for conversation like this I have not had in endless years.'

'Of course I shall stay with you if you wish' replied Wendy, trying to ignore the awkwardness this request had caused her to feel. She could hardly keep up with his moods; he seemed to go from triumphant to angry to despairing to wistful in the blink of an eye, and she did wonder how long his equanimity towards her would last. Still, she thought, she had little else to do, and he was such a fascinating character.

Hook had regarded Wendy with interest throughout his description of the origins of his and Pans enmity, and noted with satisfaction the expression on her face as he did so. This was good, this was all to plan. What was not, however, was his increasing feeling of attachment to the girl. When she had looked so sad at his tale, he had been moved for her sake, and when she had had reached out and touched his arm he had felt something akin to an electric pulse shivering up his spine. Observing her now as she leant on the balustrade next to him, he could clearly see her figure, curved and womanly, and her face, which he had begun to think of as pretty. Something in him longed to touch that face, to hold her and feel her lovely little frame pressed against his own. Worse still, she was stood close enough for him to catch her scent, and it was intoxicating; fresh and floral, and sensuous. He weakened and moved closer to her, allowing himself to revel in the warmth of her proximity.

'Miss Darling' he began 'do excuse me, I fear I have been over garrulous about myself without even sparing a thought as to your own comings and goings. Do tell me, my beauty, what has passed for thee in the years betwixt our previous meeting.'

'Oh, nothing much' said Wendy, pleased at the Captain's interest in her 'Of course, I visited this place twice after you…well, after the, um, battle to which we were both party. Since then I have completed school, and would have liked to have gone to university, but-'

'Go to university?' Interrupted Hook incredulously, 'but you're a woman!' He seemed aghast and amused in equal measure. 'Have the universities started admitting females?! Surely not Oxford?'

'Oxford was one of the first, actually' said Wendy, laughing. 'It has not been this way for long, of course, but many universities have started having women's colleges. I was to go to Girton College Cambridge.'

'Ah, should have guessed you were a Tab. Horrible place, Cambridge.'

'Well, I didn't actually go. Mother and Father, you see, wanted me to marry well, and the younger I am, the better the chance of a good match.' There was more than a trace of bitterness in Wendy's voice. 'Mother said she couldn't understand why it was not possible to read and improve oneself without three more years of education, and father thought the whole idea of female graduates to be monstrous. So I wasn't allowed to go.'

'And did your parents find you a suitable match?'

'Oh, hundreds,' replied Wendy sardonically 'all interchangeable, dull, timorous, wealthy young lawyers or clerks or doctors. I haven't liked any of them.'

Hook smiled at this, and a companionable silence ensued as both of them looked out over the water, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually Wendy shivered, for the sun was, by this time, well over the horizon.

'You are cold, my beauty, and the hour is late. I was remiss in asking you to stay out, you ought to go to bed.' said Hook

'Yes, I think I shall' replied the girl, perhaps rather too quickly. 'Goodnight, Captain'

'Goodnight, Miss Darling.'

Wendy walked towards the door that led to her room until she was sure she could not be seen. Unexpectedly, for she is normally a woman of her word, she ducked around a corner and hid. We can only guess at her intentions, for now. Suffice to say that she had, in the past hour or so, formulated a plan, the execution of which was to take place in the very next chapter.


	7. The Wendy's Flight

Chapter Seven

The Wendy's Flight

The little nook in which Wendy had hidden herself was in a corridor which afforded a direct view of the deck and, most importantly, Hook's own cabin. On the other hand, she could equally hear the noise coming from the other pirates' quarters; and was therefore in the ideal place to wait and watch for the right time to act. The girl had correctly guessed that at this time of evening Hook's crew would be drunken and loud, too much so to bother going out on deck or keeping an eye on her. Thus, all that she needed was for Hook to go to bed. As the seconds grated by, Wendy grew impatient. Wouldn't the man ever cease in his self-pitying solitude? Eventually, however, she saw him climb from the upper deck and enter his cabin below. To be certain she was not being watched, Wendy waited again until the light in his window had gone out, then she crept slowly back towards the stern.

As the astute among you may have perceived, Wendy's intention was to commandeer the jolly boat and row to the mainland, where she would (hopefully) find Peter and ask him to guide her back to London. The idea had come to her that evening quite suddenly, and seemed afterward so obvious she kicked herself for not having thought of it before. Simple enough in form, however; Wendy found the actual execution of her plan to be fraught with obstacles, the first of which was how to launch the jolly boat quietly enough to avoid detection. After fumbling for some time with the ropes that held it in place, Wendy managed to lower the vessel into the sea, which was, thankfully, calm. A small splash it made as it hit the water, but nothing that could have been heard. The next problem Wendy encountered was considerably larger- she had never rowed. True, on summer afternoons in Hyde Park she had spent many a tedious hour _being_ rowed about on the Serpentine by one suitor or another, but she had never paid much attention to the technique. As a result, many clumsy minutes passed in which Wendy grappled with the oars, finally managing to coordinate herself enough to make for land.

Rowing the little boat was far harder than Wendy had anticipated, and it was not long before her arms, and, indeed, most every part of her, was aching severely. Happily, as she continued, the motions grew to become more methodical, and her strokes fuller and smoother. Wendy began to remember with amusement the great sense of gallantry displayed by some of the young men who had taken her out in a rowing boat before. 'Why,' she thought, 'with the great song and dance they made of it, you'd think they were in command of a fleet. Such puppyish posturing! So unlike-' but here she checked herself. Wendy was becoming distinctly aware that the more time she spent with Captain Hook, the more he was at the forefront of her thoughts, and the more these thoughts took on a pleasant aspect. If you will forgive me for betraying Wendy's confidence further, she had, for example, begun to think him singularly handsome, and enjoyed conversing with him. The pathos she saw in his aching, lonely existence stirred feelings of endearment, and she could not help but compare favourably his powerful, devil-may-care manner to that of the repressed stutterings of the men Mr and Mrs Darling thought suitable. In short, she was very much in danger of developing strong feelings for her debonair captor, yet sensible of the grave folly of this, and so she shook him from her mind, concentrating instead on rowing the boat to shore.

After an hour's hard graft, Wendy ran aground on the silvery sand of a little bay. She cursed the long hem of her dress as she gathered it about her before hopping into the knee-deep water, and wished Hook had given her something more practical- women's clothes do not make dragging a boat an easy or pleasant task. (Having reached dry land, she found the waterlogged gown she was wearing to be so heavy that she had to remove it and make for the forest in her petticoat, which in turn was not warm enough to stave off the chilly night air. Such are the trials of the fair sex.) At any rate, once in the forest, it was not long before Wendy gained her bearings, and made for the Home Under the Ground, where she hoped she would find Peter.

Hook couldn't sleep. This in itself was not a rare occurrence, for he was oft given to insomnia; restless, discordant nights in which his less creditable moments came back to torture him a while; no, what bothered our dear villain at this moment were his feelings regarding Miss Darling. Strange though it is; sometimes it is one's most ferociously guarded secrets which seem to cry out to be shared; which, despite their dangerous capacity to cause vulnerability or humiliation, torment and jab at the mind until poured out upon a patient listener. In need of such a friendly ear, our Captain rose and picked up a gnarled walking cane which he kept for the use of waking his bosun by hitting it repeatedly on the floor. (The bosun's little room was, you see, directly beneath Hook's own for just such an emergency as this.)

It was a cruel twist of fate that Jas Hook- sardonic, erudite, and educated- had as his sole companion and friend a man so benevolently dull-witted that even the crew had tired of playing tricks on him. Poor Smee, who was as gentle as he thought himself terrifying, was ever at his captain's beck and call; a call which now woke him from his peaceful slumber.

'Smee!' came the muffled summons from the floor above, along with a loud thudding sound. It was not long before the flustered little man appeared in the doorway of Hook's cabin, looking bleary eyed and adjusting his spectacles.

'Smee, I've need of you.' growled Hook.

'Aye sir?'

'I am troubled, Smee. A great heaviness lies on my soul.'

'Do ye want me te fetch the rum sir?'

'No, moron, I wish to talk with you.' Hook began to pace around the room, searching for a way to broach the tender subject on his mind. Eventually he gave up and collapsed somewhat theatrically into an armchair.

'She is exquisite', he half moaned.

'Who, sir?' came the curious reply

'Miss Darling, of course! Wendy Darling!' Hook cried, exasperated. 'Smee, I fear I have weakened- I have let myself develop a fondness- nay, an attachment, a veritable attachment to our pulchritudinous prisoner. And Smee, I do not shy from saying that it has been long years, oh, very long years since last I held a woman in my arms and...' here he tailed off, sighing wistfully.

Smee, although by no means a perceptive man, had at least fathomed over the years that Hook rarely required a response when unburdening himself. As per usual, therefore, he listened patiently without interrupting as the captain began to continue.

'Of course, in my youth I was quite the dissolute rake. I indulged freely in sins of the flesh without a second thought, taking for granted that any woman would be privileged to have me. Damn arrogant fool! Alas, now I have before me an angel, a sublime, delectable, adorable _Wendy_, and I can do nought but inspire her detestation and fear; or at best her pity. Oh, but she hates me, to be sure- who would not?'

Smee pondered a while, and then attempted unsuccessfully to comfort Hook

'To be sure, Captain, one day she'll leave yeh, and you'll forget all about her; and be left alone forever.'

'Aye. That's the fear that haunts me.' Hook was despondent, and Smee looked awkwardly upon him, finally offering the solace with which he was most familiar.

'Shall I fetch the rum, sir?'

Hook looked up 'Yes, why not, Smee. Fetch the rum.' he sighed. The bosun scurried off. A while later he returned with a bottle of rum from the galley, looking perplexed.

'Here's the rum, sir- fix you up right good now. Oh, by the by, sir, did ye order the jolly boat te be launched?'

'What? No. Why?'

'Well sir…it has been. It ain't there no more.'

Hook sprang up. 'What!' He stalked out of the room to check. A moment later Smee heard his enraged voice from the deck above

'Brimstone and gall!' Thence followed a string of expletives as Hook pounded back into his cabin.

'Smee, go to Miss Darling's chamber; see if she's there.' he ordered. Smee obeyed as quick as a mousetrap, but Hook remained in the room without hope, for he already knew that Wendy had gone.


	8. What is one Girl to Me?

A.N: First of all, I want to apologise for how long it has taken me to get the last couple of chapters up. The mixture of travel and Christmas and University meant that I've had little time to write anything recently. Secondly, thank you so much to all those who have sent in reviews, it has been lovely to read them all- keep them coming!

Chapter 8

What is one Girl to Me?

Wendy felt as though she had been walking for hours and, worse still, was beginning to think herself lost. She had been so confident of her directions on entering the forest, but had forgotten that a child's perspective varies considerably from that of a nearly-grown-up. On many occasions, the only way she could remember where to go was by stooping to a child's height and looking about her. A few times she thought she caught sight of something she recognised, and would walk on purposefully; but for the most part her journey was slow and halting. Of course, Wendy was not aware at this time that she was being pursued, for she believed Hook to be asleep and ignorant of her flight. Had she known otherwise, she would certainly have been hastier, and had she known that Hook was actually gaining on her; that at this very moment he and his crew had just entered the forest and were following her unmistakable tracks, why, then she most probably would have run on in a blind panic. As it was, she continued, blissfully unaware of the danger she was in.

* * *

Hook, borne along in his chariot and taking puffs on his curious double-cigar holder, ordered his men forward in the icily genteel tone they feared above all others. They could tell that he was very, very angry. On finding no sign of Wendy on board the Jolly Roger, Hook had wakened his crew and launched the long boat. With four burly, experienced oarsmen and a captain threatening them, shouting at them and bristling with rage, it is little wonder that the pirates had taken only half the time it took Wendy to reach the shore. From there, Hook had calmed outwardly; instead his vitriol had condensed and compacted inside him, and his humiliation had silenced him. He sat quiet and terrible.

None of his crew would have guessed the thoughts that were lurching through the mind of this unfathomable man at this moment; but you and I are privileged to have a certain kind of readerly omniscience, and thus can know his inmost feelings without fear of having a hook plunged into us. As smoulderingly enraged as he was, Hook's overwhelming emotion was in fact one of misery at having lost Miss Darling, of whom, as we know, he was beginning to feel fond.

'There it is,' said his mind to him, 'You knew she hated you. And now she has left you, and you will be eternally and irrevocably alone.'

'What care I?' he tried to retort to himself, 'I, who put the fear of God into Nelson's fleet? I who possess not only fame, that glittering bauble; but even the most prized medallion of all- true infamy! What is one girl to me?'

'Company. Virtue. Perhaps even-'

But here his thoughts were broken by a gasp from one of his men, and felicitous for him was this interruption too, for it eclipsed his painful musings.

'What is it, Scutter?' hissed Hook 'Out with it, man, or I'll cast anchor in you.'

'I thought I saw her, Captain' said Scutter in a stage whisper, 'Or at least, something what looked like a lady's skirts disappearing behind them trees. Shall I go in and fetch her?'

'No.' He turned to his men. 'You stop and stay here, my bullies; for I do not want her to be scared away by the noise you'll make. I shall find her.'

* * *

After an age in the forest without seeing any sign of something recognisable, Wendy was close to despair. It really had been too long since she came to Neverland if she could no longer even find Peter's home. 'And', she thought, 'What if the reason I can't find it is because I am too grown up?'

This nasty thought, as well as being tired, and cold, and lost, was all that she could bear, and she sat down against a tree, utterly dejected. It was but a few moments, however, before he ears pricked and she turned her head, for she had heard- or thought she had heard- a noise like the tread of a boot somewhere behind her. But now all was silence and stillness again, and the only things she could hear were the normal Neverland sounds; sea, birds, and the wind in the treetops. She was beginning to relax once more, when she heard it once more: A sharp, crackling sound as of a person walking very slowly through the undergrowth. There was no mistaking it this time; someone was following her. Wendy's breath came in short, quiet gasps; an irresistible urge to run away as fast as she could was seizing hold of her, and she rose up in order to flee. But as she did so, she felt a great heaviness restrain her, and something sharp against her side, and a hand over her mouth, which prevented the inevitable scream from escaping.

'Don't make a sound.' whispered a well-known voice viciously, 'And don't thou move a muscle, or I'll tear thee in half.'

As she stood stock still and terrified, with the realisation of what was going on crashing around her, the hand was removed from Wendy's mouth and placed tightly around her waist; and the hook (for hook it was) put very acutely against her throat.

'Now my dear, I'm going to take you back to the ship.' breathed Hook in her ear. 'You _will_ come quietly, won't you? I shouldn't like to have to rend that peerless skin of yours.'

Wendy shivered and nodded her assent silently, knowing both that this was probably an idle threat, but that resistance was hopeless, for Hook could easily overpower her should she attempt to run.

In spite of having given her acquiescence, Hook, whose voice had borne a strange, glowing undertone, did not relax his grip on her, nor make any attempt to move. Things growing increasingly ridiculous, Wendy spoke to him:

'Please, captain, let go of me. I will not run away.'

Slowly, he did as she asked, and she turned to face him. Even in the awareness of his palpable control over her, Hook felt his blood churn helplessly when he saw that Wendy was wearing nothing but her petticoat. His colour rose.

'Come with me' he ordered eventually. 'My crew are waiting and will take us back.' He held out his arm stiffly, and she, after a brief hesitation, took it.

Their journey back was silent and awkward. Wendy was wordless and depressed, and would not look up; and Hook had not the feeling of triumph he had expected. It was almost as though he felt sorry for the girl and guilty for being the reason for her unhappiness. More than this, it was unbearable for him to think that he had resorted so readily to threats and intimidation (though this had never bothered him before). Sorry party that they are, we shall leave them to their melancholia in the hope that they will have returned to normal spirits when next we visit them.


	9. A Heart of Flint

Chapter 9

A Heart of Flint

At the same time as the sun was rising over Neverland, and Wendy and her captor were making their gloomy way back to the Jolly Roger, an extraordinary boy, surrounded by ordinary boys, was putting the finishing touches to a daring scheme of his own conception. Peter Pan (for 'twas he) had been interested to learn from the mermaid that Hook had taken a prisoner on board, and that this prisoner was female.

'The Old Man has a captive on his ship' he had said to lost boys on his return. 'A lady. I propose that we rescue her.'

'Why?' asked one smudge-faced boy.

'Because that is what the heroes do to ladies.' explained Peter 'It's what happens in all the stories.'

This design was met with general glee, until one skinny, freckled lad piped up:

'What are we to do with the lady once we have rescued her?'

'Yes Peter; what if she's grown-up and not able to live with us?' asked another

'Or fly back where she came from? What will we do with her then?' asked yet another.

'Easy!' said Peter, although I very much doubt he had thought of anything, for he remained silent for a few moments while contemplating. 'If she's grown-up' he continued eventually 'we shall challenge her to a duel. She will lose, of course. But the important thing is that we will have rescued her.'

No further objections being raised, the children and their indomitable leader fell to organising a plan.

It was decided that Peter and the Lost Boys should fly to the Jolly Roger, pulling a raft behind them with vine ropes. Launching a surprise attack on Hook's men, the boys would fight, torment, and otherwise distract the brigands, while Peter would find and rescue the lady. After having safely deposited Hook's captive on the raft, Peter and the boys would kill the man and his crew, and push the lady to shore. If she proved to still be a child; she would become their mother and do the cleaning and the cooking. If she was grown up, Peter would challenge her to a duel, and, having disposed of her, they could all go back to normal. As you can see, it was a flawless, genius plan, and Peter was justly proud of it.

'Oh, the cleverness of me!' he sang, as the boys cheered their valiant leader and their wonderful new game.

Of course, it was all but forgotten about for a few days, as formulating a plot can be just as much fun as carrying it out, and the boys were so pleased with themselves at having thought up such a masterwork they almost believed they had put it into action already. Only when Peter grew bored one later day did he revive the idea of actually saving Wendy. By this time, however, the unknowing object of their most valiant mission had undergone such changes of heart and circumstance that one might question whether such terms as 'captive' or 'prisoner' were any longer apt.

* * *

Wendy and Hook exchanged not a word all the way back to the ship. Upon arrival, he silently escorted her to her room, bowed, and left. Wendy sat down on her bed, still quivering with a mixture of anger, fear and embarrassment. These feelings were deeply unpleasant in themselves, but even they were not as bad as the recollection of another feeling, which frightened and confused her more than one of Hook's threats ever could. Horrible as it was, when he had caught Wendy as she tried to run, had clutched her tightly and not let go, there had been something in her that felt a twinge of an emotion akin to _relief_. Of course, this is not by any means to say that the overwhelming sensation at the time wasn't one of horror; but had there not been also just a glimmer of consolation in the fact that at least now she would still be able to see the Captain, and talk to him? Wendy could not countenance it, it made her too ashamed. The very fact that she had to keep reminding herself of Hook's villainy was in itself a bad sign.

She sighed, and decided that whatever madness might have flitted through her mind earlier that night was to be neatly folded away now. At any rate, she could be secure in the knowledge that in her present circumstance she had no desire to speak to Hook at all, it would be too humiliating. She would do her utmost to avoid him, for she could just imagine the shadow of a smirk that would play arrogantly on his face, the flamboyantly genteel way in which he would mock her, and his cold blue eyes full of disdain.

The day turned out to be sunny and hot, and Wendy made sure to go nowhere near the captain's cabin or the upper deck when, after a couple of snatched hours of sleep, she rose. Instead, she sat with Smee, who was mending a part of the rigging that had been damaged in a skirmish with Peter Pan. The old man was very pleased to have some company, and he chatted merrily away well into the afternoon while Wendy helped him.

'Tis funny, Miss Wendy, how strange the Captain's been actin' since first ye came here.' he said at length. 'Though I'm not one o' them superstitious types what says it's bad luck for a woman te be on board, ye cannot help but notice the terrible moods and flusters he gets himself into on account of you.'

Wendy looked up, interested.

'Oh?' she said

Smee continued, seemingly unaware of his lack of discretion

'Well, being as how he's soft on ye, Miss; it's hardly surprising I suppose. But when ye went missin' last night; I really thought he had lost his senses; like a wild beast he was.'

Wendy was stunned.

'Soft on me?' she repeated, astonished, 'Mr Smee, do you mean to tell me that the Captain actually likes me?'

'Oh yes; mind, it's not my place to say, but he was right taken with ye, I never seen the like. '

As well as her shock at this news, Wendy was equally stunned by Smee's thudding tactlessness. 'Wouldn't he mind you telling me all this?' she asked incredulously.

Smee looked up at her and understanding seemed to dawn on him. His rubicund face grew redder still

'Oh, well, it'll turn out of no consequence, te be sure,' he spluttered. 'Only I would be much obliged if you'll not be tellin' him o' this here conversation.'

'No, of course not' said Wendy. She got up and said farewell to the bosun, and wandered back to her room, still reeling from what he had just revealed to her.

'Of course', she thought, 'I must not take what Smee says too seriously. Doubtless he would think that anyone whom Captain Hook did not immediately tear to shreds was someone he was "soft on"; so it isn't really anything to be frightfully awed about. But I do wonder what all this means.'

Later that day, as she was half-reading in her room while the other half went over and over what Smee had told her, she heard a knock at her door.

'Come in' she said, as her heart leapt with mixed dread and anticipation. Sure enough, it was Hook who passed into the little cabin.

'Ah, there you are my beauty. I called for you earlier but you were nowhere to be found.'

'That's odd,' Wendy replied archly, 'I thought you were rather good at finding me.'

Hook smiled with sardonic amusement.

'Bitter, I see. Dear me, what bad form. Really though, my dear, I should have thought thou would have realised that if thou were't to flee, I would duly pursue. You can't blame me for bringing you back here, surely? At any rate, I make no apology; however, I should be much gratified if thou wilt join me for dinner later.'

Wendy laughed aghast

'One might enquire, Captain, whether you even desire a positive response after such an invitation.'

'Don't be precious, girl' he responded with a raised brow. 'I merely thought it might help make amends for the events of last night, and spare you a little from the inevitable boredom of yet another evening spent reading alone.'

'Nobly disinterested of you, I'm sure.'

Hook laughed, and Wendy saw his face momentarily transformed.

'Of course, Miss Darling, I should be glad of your company too.'

Wendy pondered for a while. Although she had not forgiven Hook, he was right in pointing out she had little else to do. Besides, she wanted to find out quite what Smee had meant when he had said Hook was "taken with her". And, taking into consideration that there was a distinct possibility Hook's invitation was an order rather than a request and she would probably be prevailed upon to go anyway, she felt it would be silly to refuse. She agreed to dinner with a suitable air of gracious condescension, and he left her with a low bow.

Wendy found to her dismay that dining with Hook was actually thoroughly enjoyable. It has been said that he is a raconteur of repute, and Wendy found this unquestionably to be the case. As well as this, he was charming and polite, and asked her a good deal about herself and her hopes. Such were Hook's manners and gentlemanly conversation that she virtually forgot the happenings of the night before and her resolution to have nothing to do with him. Indeed, she was in very great danger of being utterly beguiled by the man, something which Hook, surveying her from across the table, perceived with gratification. Being easy to talk to, the girl found herself speaking freely to him about subjects which hitherto had been unshared with anyone else. In particular, she voiced to him her anxiety about the life that awaited her once she was, in her own words, "properly grown up".

'Art thou not already grown up, my dear?' Hook had asked upon hearing this. 'You certainly appear to me to be quite the lady.'

'That is deflating' said Wendy. 'It shows how little I have left to go before I am completely lost in that dreary world. Can you blame me, Captain, for dreading the life of endless constriction and empty nostalgia that will be mine? You yourself rebelled against it when you ran away to sea, did you not?'

'That I did. But, scathingly as you look upon it, adulthood is not simply tedium and regret. That is to say, there are joys and pleasures in it forever barred to the realm of childhood.'

Wendy pretended not to notice the strange emphasis the Captain had put on these last words and the look he had given her whilst saying them. She rose and wandered to the window.

'Maybe', said she, gazing out, 'but I think in every grown up there is a part of them which wishes they could 'always be a little boy and have fun.''

Hook, who had risen when she had done so, and followed her to the window to stand behind her now, replied languidly

'Speak not to me of Pan's philosophy on the subject; he himself knows nothing, as incomplete and stunted in development as he is. He is a child, and as such has no feelings for anyone or anything other than himself.'

Wendy scoffed-

'You yourself are no better than Peter, Captain. You claim to have a high regard for feeling for others, yet I know you to have a heart of flint.'

A change seemed to come over Hook at her words; it was as though he sensed the opportunity to broach the subject he had wanted to address for a long time. He moved very close to her, and if his voice grew softer, his eyes grew more livid.

'Even so, Miss Darling, even so', he said to her gently. 'I have, as you put it, a heart of flint. But, dear girl, does not even flint, when struck in the right way, produce a spark, which if nurtured and nourished can grow into a full flame?' He lifted a finger to her cheek and stroked it gingerly.

'And Wendy, Darling' he whispered into her ear 'hast thou not struck me to the very core?'

Wendy was lost for words, she was trying instead to ignore the thudding of her heart.

'You are silent' murmured Hook, 'well then, I shall gauge my enquiry in an, alas, more vulgar way: Wilt thou permit me to give thee a kiss, dear girl?' He was so near now that she could catch his scent, a mixture of spices, cigars and a curious metallic undertone as of blood. Scandalised as she should have been by the pirate's request, Wendy could feel her blood rising and her cheeks burning; she wanted to say yes. Hook put his right arm around her waist and pulled her into him, positively exulting in the closeness of her frame. Still caressing her cheek, he began to brush the girl's neck slowly and repeatedly with his lips. His left arm moved down to stroke her shoulder, and yet further down. Wendy was, by this time, quite beyond any charade of resistance, but she did take his hand in hers and move it away. Hook seized the opportunity to turn her around so she was facing him. He pressed his body against hers, cupping her chin with his good hand and giving her a burning, lingering glance before moving in and kissing her passionately, lustfully, gloatingly. Wendy had never experienced a kiss before; certainly not one such as this, which seemed to tug at her very heart. She put her arms around his neck and stroked his hair, her lips still moving against his.

* * *

A.N: So there it is, they finally kiss. Sorry if you find this chapter a little rushed; the length was spiralling out of control so I had to be brisk with the plot. Anyway, I hope it meets with your satisfaction; thanks again for all your kind reviews! 


	10. What Should Be Sacrosanct

Chapter 10

What Should be Sacrosanct

The experience of pleasure was one which had been a stranger to Captain Hook for countless years. As he felt Wendy's kiss, therefore, it was all he could do to stop himself trembling with disbelief. It was incomparably sweet. A thousand poems and happy memories and long-forgotten tunes collided in his mind; he almost forgot piracy, Neverland, and even Pan, for his thoughts were engaged far more pleasantly. Indeed, he was just wondering idly how best to seduce the Darling girl when, quite out of the blue, she stopped suddenly, pulling away from him and muttering confusedly,

'No, no; I'm sorry; this is terribly wrong. You- you're…You're a murderer. I can't, mustn't…You made me walk the plank; you tried to kill my brothers- and Peter. You kidnapped me. How could I kiss you? I'm sorry. This is all wrong.'

She spoke hurriedly, apparently trying to convince herself more than Hook. When she had stopped, Wendy looked up at the man who mere seconds ago had been holding her, and seemed now to be struggling for words. He was stood very stiff and very upright, though his eyes would not meet hers. After what seemed an age, he said in a quiet, almost mechanical voice:

'You make yourself devastatingly clear, Miss Darling. And I do not pretend that every word you have spoken is not true. You are right. You may leave me.'

With one last guilty look, Wendy fled from the room. The pirate remained stony as despair for a few moments, then he sank as though broken to the floor, clutching his head in his hand.

Hook awoke soon after sunrise the next morning to find himself slumped in an armchair with a nauseous headache. After Wendy had gone, he remembered having called for Smee and for liquor, and, judging by the broken glass, upturned chairs and mutilated woodwork, had flown into a towering rage. As he remembered the events which had led him to this, Hook's mind convulsed with embarrassment.

'Fate', he inwardly cried, 'why dost thou mock me? Surely it is enough that I exist in this limbo to be thy fool; yet you further torment me by snatching away the cup of pleasure from my very lips. And all after inviting me so warmly to drink- that's where the canker gnaws.'

His lacerated heart hardened.

'Well, well, 'tis done, and it will suffice. But I'll no more be your bauble, Moirai. I shall forget the girl, your instrument; and for all her allurements and pretty conversation she will be nothing to me, just as I am nothing to her. I shall keep her here until the brat flies in to her aid, and then I will kill him in front of her, that his death may ever scar her sleeping hours.'

Hook, as we know, is a man of some considerable bravado. For my money, I think it unlikely that he was quite as resolved in these intentions towards Wendy as he would have himself believe. Had he been so, the loathsome little voice which now piped up would probably have kept quiet.

'Why do you complain to Fate?' it said. 'You, who have so often proclaimed yourself to be the master of your own destiny- you have heaped punishments upon your own head. Did not the girl reject you because of what you had freely chosen to do in the past? And had she not every right to behave as she did; dear, sweet Wendy. Rage and howl all you like, Jas. Hook. But, in the end, you will still be faced with the truth that faces you now; that _you do not deserve her_.'

The man, normally so ready to expostulate with himself, was silenced at this most crushing rejoinder. His proud spirit crumbled, more so because he knew it to be true.

Aye,' he sighed with all the bitterness of resignation. 'That is the crux of the matter. And it is one which cannot be undone.'

In times of great emotion or frustration, and particularly when the cool faculty of reason deserted him, it was a custom of Hook's to vent his inner tempests through music. No mean performer on the flute, and a veritable virtuoso on the harpsichord, it was both soothing and cathartic to disentangle himself from his woes in such a manner. This he did now; rising heavily and wandering over to the fine instrument in the corner of his cabin, upon which he played an aching, dolorous air.

Wendy, who had risen early that she might escape her troubled dreams, was standing on the deck outside. In the distance, she heard the melancholy strains of Hook's tune, and they tormented her. She was terribly conflicted. As the breeze combed through her hair, caressing her face in a motherly fashion, Wendy's heart stirred for the man whom she had left so desolate. Against this, however; and pressing on her even more deeply was her knowledge of the fact that Hook was a character of unabashed cruelty and quite terrible immorality. Moreover, he had told her quite plainly that he could never allow 'but a single drop' of remorse into his soul. It was this, rather than Hook's actions, which troubled her most. Wendy felt at that moment that she could gladly forget all his misdeeds, and forgive him anything he had done to her, were he only to show sorrow for it, and the slightest willingness to change. She shivered and sighed as the sky grew bluer, and decided to make for her cabin. But she could not bring herself to leave the deck without a guilty glance in the direction of Hook's quarters.

Two days passed in which Wendy and Hook avoided each other's company all together. After a third of hot sunshine, however, Wendy brought her books outside and sat at the prow of the ship, reading the copy of _Paradise Lost_ that Hook had given her. Ensconced in the poem, she was unaware of the Captain, who had stolen up behind the girl and knew not how to alert her of his presence other than by clearing his throat awkwardly. Wendy turned around and for a moment her heart raced at the sight of him as she wondered what he wanted with her.

'Be not alarmed, Miss Darling. I did not wish to startle you' he said stiffly. 'My purpose in coming here was to put your mind at rest- that is to say, to quell any anxiety you may have that I should wish to reiterate my sentiments of last night. You will be relieved to hear I have no intention of the sort.'

Wendy nodded dumbly, not knowing how to respond.

'I should hope, my dear, that despite all that has passed you would continue to converse with me sometimes. Your company has been…valuable to me, and I would fain keep it for the little while we have left before I return you to London.'

'You are to take me home?' cried Wendy hopefully

'In due course. Why, it cannot be long now before he…' Hook tailed off with a calculating look in his eyes.

'Oh, how perfectly lovely! When?' asked Wendy excitedly, 'When can I go home?'

'As yet I do not know' was the perturbed response. 'There are, hmm, factors which must be taken into consideration first. Do excuse me Miss Darling.'

He bowed and left her. Wendy, who was by now used to his abruptness, looked after him for a while, and then returned to her book, a smile on her face as she contemplated her imminent return to England, and the end of this strange, uncomfortable time in the Neverland.

The next few days were passed in quiet civility. Wendy, indeed, became quite used to living aboard the Jolly Roger, and had even asked of Hook that she be given some boy's clothes so as to move about the ship more comfortably (a request he fulfilled with an almost frighteningly devoted swiftness). The two grew to be fairly cordial again, although they saw little of each other and never, ever mentioned The Kiss. Eventually, Hook would even let Wendy join him and his men on their excursions to the mainland, provided that she sat up beside him in his curious man-drawn chariot. The crew did not seem pleased at this.

Wendy, an avid reader, soon finished all of the books that Hook had selected for her. One day, when the Captain and his men had gone to mainland to refresh their food supplies and 'settle a score with the Piccaninnies' (the girl did not wish to know exactly what Hook had meant by that), she decided to fetch some more reading material. Hook kept a large yet refined collection of books in his cabin, and had invited her to borrow any one she pleased. After perusing the shelves there for a while, Wendy's attention was caught by a little glass-fronted cabinet in the corner of the room which also appeared to be full of books. It occurred to Wendy that Hook had probably only meant for her to take from generous rows in front of her; but her curiosity was piqued, and she evaded the voice of her conscience by telling herself that 'he did say that I could help myself to the books _in his cabin_. He didn't specify _only on the shelves_.' With this rather dubious reasoning, she crept over to the cabinet, which fortunately for her still had the key in the keyhole, and looked inside.

She was interested by what she found. The books one keeps tend to be a good indication of the person one is (or is pretending to be), and Wendy felt very much as though she were stumbling across Hook's own mind, such were the telling documents within. Aside from the expected Roget's Thesaurus and Oxford English Dictionary, there were a dozen or so issues of _The Eton Chronicle_, most of which were yellowed and very dog-eared; a biography of Sir Francis Drake, which also looked as though it had been thumbed through more than once; Plato's _Republic_ and _Phaedrus_; several books of sheet music including a lot of Byrd and Bach; and, most surprisingly of all, a Jerusalem Bible. Hook was the last person in the world Wendy would have expected to have been a devout Catholic, and she grinned to think of it. She was just about to leave when she noticed an old, leather-bound book hiding behind some music. It did not have any indication as to the contents so Wendy opened it.

'Good gracious; it's the ship's log!' she exclaimed. It was not without a certain amount of guilt that she now read the book, flicking through pages at random at first, before a thought struck her.

'I wonder if he has written anything about me?'

Wendy knew what she was doing was tantamount to reading someone else's diary, and she did try fairly hard to resist the temptation which bubbled away inside her; but the opportunity to look straight into the soul of a man so unfathomable proved too much for her. She turned to the most recent entry, which was divided into several sections (they were all undated, presumably because time runs too strangely in the Neverland for such things). In repeating here what Wendy read to herself, I am aware of my own culpability in callously disregarding what should be sacrosanct. I do hope that you will forgive me, and that your resolve not to read a man's most private thoughts will prove stronger than Wendy's. At any rate, this is what she read:

_Neverland ---_

_Succeeded in kidnapping Wendy Darling. Once again, victory tolls hollow; for I cannot look upon this without disgust. Needs must, however, and she is necessary. I nearly laughed to see her again for she is so much grown up, and I fear my work will be almost too easy! She did not seem afraid (an insult I shall overlook) but was clearly appalled by my treatment of that nasty faerie creature. For some reason, this made me feel bleak. I dreamt of Peter Pan the night before. I dreamt that as I slew him (such bliss) I crowed as he does. Then I began to shrink til I was no bigger than a child. My clothes and features changed until behold! I _was_ Pan. I still feel rather unsettled as I write of it._

_Neverland ---_

_Miss Darling has grown on me rather. She has taste and is a great relief after years of only my raddled curs as companions. How I despise them. She is rather pretty._

_It is late, and I cannot sleep. I fear I have let myself slip after conversing on deck with W.D, she is quite lovely. I must stop this madness, I know, yet I fear it is too late. Already she is inescapably at the forefront of my thoughts, and has awakened a desire that has long lain dormant in this accursed land. If only I could have her. But she is a virtuous young thing and would scorn a union with a man as low and contemptible as I. It is not to be borne!_

_Neverland ---_

_I now have confirmation of my last statement; W.D ran away. I had to fetch her back, of course, but it fair broke my heart to see her so defeated. Tis bitterly ironic that by keeping her here, where hourly she seems to grow dearer to me; I am casting myself further and further from her; for she wants nothing more than to go home. When I found her in the forest she was only in her petticoats. _

_Neverland --- _

_My mind is still reeling from last night. Such sweetness I shall never know again, but at least now I cannot torture myself with hope; I must remain focussed on the matter in hand. It will not be long now before the brat flies in, and then I shall have him. I do hope W.D will not flee from me if I approach her- _

Wendy could not read any further, for at that moment she heard the sounds of Hook and his men returning, and someone approaching the cabin. Hastily she slammed the book shut, closed and locked the cabinet and ran over to the book shelves, where she pretended to be ensconced in the selection of some reading material. The captain entered soon after, and was pleasantly surprised to see her.

'By Lucifer, I did not expect to see thee here. Looking for something new, are you?' he said

'Yes, sorry to come uninvited; you did say-'

'Not at all, you are quite welcome.' An awkward pause.

'I shan't be a minute.' Wendy picked up the first book she saw, which unfortunately happened to be one of those she had but recently finished.

'I thought you'd read that already' said Hook with a slight smirk.

'I didn't see the spine properly, I thought it was something else' replied Wendy unconvincingly. She hurriedly exchanged the book for another and made to leave.

'Well. Sorry to disturb you, captain. I'll leave you in peace.' she smiled nervously.

'Yes, quite. Well then. Goodbye, my- _Miss_ Darling.'

Wendy scuttled out of the room with a glowing heart. As guilty as she (quite deservedly) felt, what she had read had proved so endearing to her that she could almost have felt like hugging the captain. It is a pity, in a way, that Hook entered when he did and prevented Wendy from reading more of the ship's log. Had she done so, and turned two or three pages back, her eyes would have fallen on an entry which explained quite why it was that Hook had captured her in the first place, and what his purpose was in keeping her there. That, however, will have to wait a little while- only until the next chapter, mind you; for at this very moment, Peter is preparing for the attack the on Jolly Roger and the 'rescue' of our heroine, and all things will be revealed in the catalyst of his presence.


	11. All Grown Up

Chapter 11

All Grown Up

AN: First of all, I am so, so sorry for the months this has taken me to write. I have been busy but that's really no excuse- mea culpa. Secondly, I hope this chapter is worth the wait. I thought it's about time you had an explanation of certain things, so here it is. Also, thanks again for your generous reviews; it's lovely to hear from you!

* * *

One thing that we must understand, and that Wendy ought to have understood at the time, is that Captain Hook was a rogue and villain of the first order. Thus far in our narrative we have seen him very much unprovoked by his diminutive nemesis, and engaging with feelings softer and pleasanter than are usual to his personality. It is only natural, in this sort of situation, that we would catch a glimpse of his better nature, and I must warn you, lest you have run away with the idea that he is a benevolent or even sympathetic character (for both are at best debatable) of his deep wickedness. With this in mind, it is hoped you will not be too shocked at what you find in the next few turns of the story. 

As you will remember, Hook kidnapped Wendy as part of a calculated, if at present obscurely motivated plan, the details of which he has kept entirely to himself. The time has now arrived, I fear, to make known what has hitherto been concealed- to impart the dreadful machinations of this man's mind, and his real reason for holding Wendy captive.

To do this properly, we must journey back in time to an evening in the Neverland long, long past, in which Hook sits at his writing bureau after another of his many skirmishes with the eternal boy, and thinks again of how galling it is to be defeated over and over by one who ought to be beneath contempt.

'_It is the riddle of his existence_', he wrote in the log,'_the sheer mystery of his being, which prevents me from victory. If I only knew that he was human, that he had some vital weakness, I could play upon it, could manipulate it and bring him down by it. Alas, I know of no such fault in him. Even his sins are his strengths: No guilt to prey on his mind. No compassion to stay his hand. No humility to impinge on his confidence. No feeling-_' but here he stopped. Something was niggling at the back of his memory, a forgotten face which he could not quite visualise,a half whisper of a name, of which he could not as yet fathom the importance.

'_Wendy_'.

All of a sudden, as is so often the case with remembering, it all came quivering back to him; Pan's ridiculous attempt to install a little girl on the island to be his mother; her kidnapping; the frightening rage with which Pan fought to win her back. And then, most significantly of all, there had been what Starkey had mentioned after Hook had escaped from the crocodile and regained his ship. (Starkey, of course, was the only member of Hook's old crew to have remained in Neverland alive, having been made to act as nanny for the Piccaninny children.)

"'_Pan brought that girl back here you know captain'_, he had said.

'_What girl?'_

'_His little mother. Twice she came back in spring, I saw them both flying about quite often, her and Pan.' "_

So she had returned, had she? But that would mean, of course…

'Split my infinitives!' Hook breathed with a terrible grin.

'He remembered her.' he was thinking to himself. 'Though he forgets everything else, he remembered her, and he brought her back here. He must have feelings for her! Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs, the brat seems almost human- and how deliciously fallible he is with it.' He mused a while, and then began to write down his thoughts in the log.

'_The boy does have a weakness: Wendy Darling. But how do I reach her, and what do I do with her? Aye, there's the rub. Merely provoking the whelp into combat to save her will not suffice; remember last time.' _(He shuddered with embarrassment.)_ 'I must break him first. What if I were to kill the girl before his very eyes? Alas, I fear that would provoke rather than devastate. Besides, to murder her would be awfully bad form, and do little to undermine his loathsome swagger. To destroy his confidence; to make him feel betrayed and wounded- to hurt him- that is what I desire. How best to do that? If I could make him think she had forgotten him; or corrupt the girl so as to make her loathsome to him; aye, that would cut the little abomination deep._'

Hook pondered. What did the boy hate most in the world?

'Why, me, of course.'

'And what art thou, Jas. Hook?' he asked himself

'A pirate. A murderer. A thief. A liar. A debauchee. A drunkard. A tyrant. Alone.'

'But most crucially?'

'A man.'

Hook began to write; an idea was forming in his dark mind.

'_What if I could turn Wendy into a woman? Of course, I know not how old she might be when I find her; time runs precious strange here and she could be anything between thirteen and thirty. But that is of little consequence, real adulthood depends so much more on behaviour than age. What if when Pan came to her rescue, as he is bound to do, I had beguiled her into an act of maturity beyond her tender years, and created a Wendy who is grown up (a "lady", if you will); comfortable and cheerful in my presence; and clearly more at home on board than with him? If he sees that his beloved bears more in common with a pirate that with a lost boy, it would kill him, he'd fair fall out of the sky!_

_Is it possible, though? Perhaps. As I recall, the girl was by no means resistant to my gentility in the past; she took my arm when it was offered, and may well be susceptible to good manners and charm, as so many of her sex are. If I flattered her, was polite towards her and treated her as an adult, she may well act like one. And were I to unburden and explain myself to her, she may even sympathise with me; I do have a certain way with words. Of course, such a thing would take time, and I would have to be very careful to make sure she was well treated. It will be difficult; maybe too difficult. Heaven knows I am capable of many things. But could I really seduce someone into growing up?_'

Oh, poor Wendy! If only she had chanced on this page in her illicit reading of the ship's log, she would have realised the true nature of her calculating captor and the extent to which his honeyed words and genteel treatment had ensnared her. Already she was everything that Hook had desired she would be; the defiant young girl who had favoured the nursery over the boudoir had unwittingly yet willingly become the confidant and consort of Peter's mortal enemy. As for the captain, he had not guessed how many years would have passed since they had last met and had been delighted when, on first beholding Wendy as he took her from the nursery, he saw how much she was already grown up. It would not even be necessary to 'train her' into a charade of adulthood, for she was irrevocably beyond a child; and Pan, as Hook noted with unabashed delectation, would be utterly devastated. His plan had gone more smoothly than he could possibly have imagined; Wendy had responded to his cordiality and flirtation much as he had hoped; and now, as he and she passed their days on board the Jolly Roger in quiet civility, he knew that all he had to do was wait.

* * *

Having caught up with ourselves, as it were, with regards to the narrative, we turn again to our heroine as she grows ever more confused about her feeling for Hook. She was not in love with him, _per se_. As she reminded herself almost daily, irascible and homicidal crooks are not generally supposed to be lovable. Why then, did the sound of his icy, aristocratic voice make her flushed; or the forget-me-not blue of his eyes cause her pulse to quicken? It was all most vexing. Be all his faults as they may, however, Wendy was canny enough to realise that when she had stumbled across (or, rather, pried into) the ship's log, she had seen a glimmer of Hook's better nature, and she was determined to see more. As such, that evening she actively sought the pirate's company for the first time, knocking on his cabin door. A wish that Smee would go to the devil and an expletive which made Wendy blush was the response from within.

'It is not Smee, Captain-'

A clattering noise and more cursing followed, before the door opened and Hook peered out at her with a face of scarlet.

'A thousand apologies, Miss Darling, I mistook you for my bosun. I did not- I would not have used such language before a- especially you.' He paused. 'Do come in, won't you?'

'Certainly' smiled Wendy 'and there is no need to apologise to me, sir; I am not so naïve that I think the manners of seafaring men to be quite what I have been used to at school!'

'Well, yes. Quite… To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?' asked Hook.

'I hear, captain, that you are a great performer on the harpsichord. I should be honoured if you'd play for me,' said Wendy, an all-too-innocuous expression on her face. Hook eyed her with suspicion

'What the deuce are you up to, woman, coming here with wide eyes and pretty requests? I believe you mean mischief.'

'Not at all; I am merely in need of entertainment,' responded Wendy, innocently.

'Balderdash, my dear; thou wouldst never seek it at my hand. Far more likely that you wish to appease me before running away again, I'll wager.'

'Oh, I don't mean to escape again, captain- you said you would take me back soon.'

'And you believe me to be a man of my word?' enquired Hook with some hesitation.

'Yes, I trust you.' said Wendy. It was impossible to read the look on his face. After no small silence, Wendy continued blithely, 'But how long do you intend to refuse my wish to hear you play?'

* * *

Hook's performance was sublime, despite his handicap, and Wendy was much impressed and moved by it.

'Oh captain, that was perfectly mesmerising,' she sighed when he had finished, 'thank you.'

'Tush, my dear; you flatter me unduly. My abilities are nothing to what they were', he said with the first rueful glance he had cast at his hook for a very, very long time. 'Now; 'tis your turn Miss Darling.' Wendy was all modesty and protestation- as is expected of well brought up young ladies- but eventually, inevitably, she was prevailed upon and played and sang one of the songs her mother had taught her. Although she had a good ear and clear, pretty voice, the song itself was a drab little thing; but Hook seemed oblivious to the mediocrity of the piece, indeed, he was all rapt attention and gazed at her with an expression of real pleasure. When she had finished, he sat a while in silence, then said haltingly;

'Would you… Would it be presumptuous of me to ask you to play a duet with me, dear Wendy?'

The girl reddened furiously at his use of her Christian name and hid it very poorly.

'No- that is, yes, of course if you wish me to duet with you I shall, although I very much doubt that I will be a worthy accompanist.'

He rose and joined her, selecting a piece simple enough for Wendy to follow by sight. The pirate's proximity to her was cause enough, on Wendy's part, for the sort of acutely enjoyable discomfort felt when close to a desired one, and she felt her hands getting hotter as she increasingly fudged her way through the piece. Once or twice she looked up at him to find his eyes fixed not on the music but on her own face. Eventually she stopped, apologising for her lack of prowess.

'I'm afraid I never did practice as much as I ought.'

'I think you play beautifully.' was the quiet response. Wendy broke into a smile; she thought him really quite sweet.

'Please don't flatter me, captain; it will go to my head you will make me quite delusional.'

This innocent rejoinder chimed rather too well with what Hook had planned and anticipated all those moons ago, and tweaked his tarnished sense of guilt more that even he could ignore.

'Wendy,' he began, 'there is something I wish to explain to you.'

'Yes?' She was looking at him with irresistible tenderness.

'I need to tell you about… something I wrote', he breathed hoarsely

'No, you don't', whispered Wendy, moving so close their faces were nearly touching, and toying with a strand of his hair, 'I know anyway.'

Wendy, of course, was thinking of what she herself had read, and was thus very much mistaken in her assertion; but Hook was incapable of questioning what in the world she meant when her lips were but an inch from his own.

Before Wendy could give him a thimble, however, the sound of shouting could clearly be heard from outside, and an instant later, Smee came crashing through the door.

'Pan, Captain!' he yelled breathlessly, 'Pan and his boys are attacking!'

The change which came over Hook was instantaneous; he leapt up with eyes ablaze and was across the room in an instant.

'Get my sword and pistols, you fool' he snarled imperiously, 'Then go and tickle as many of the brats with Johnny corkscrew as you please.' He looked over at Wendy, who was staring at him with dismay, and a flicker of conflict, then resigned regret passed across his cadaverous face. 'Miss Darling, you come with me. Now.'

'Captain, please,' Wendy began as she hurried to his side, 'please, this is monstrous; they're only children-'

'Only children?' Hook barked incredulously, 'Clearly, thou knowest them not. You must see me as a barbaric coward of the highest order if you believe them to be mere babes.'

Hook's voice became little more than a vitriolic growl.

'These are boys, my beauty, who have often spent decades or more doing nothing but fight, and growing barely a day older. They are, therefore, highly trained- you have seen for yourself Pan's own skill with sword and tactics; and, while my men have languished into bored, drunken husks of humanity, these boys retain only youth, energy, and the crass moral certainties of their age. They are dangerous, Miss Darling; and if they perceive you to be an adult they will most likely try to kill you. Hence, you will do as I say and stop whingeing. Follow me.'

Hook leapt from his cabin into the affray, and beckoned for Wendy to come with him. All was mayhem on board the Jolly Roger; lost boys were running amok on the deck, slashing and stabbing a Hook's crew, who were defending themselves just as viciously as they were being attacked. One great disadvantage, however, was the pirates' slow, ungainly gait when faced with the nimble, sharp movements of their foe, and several buccaneers had already fallen. Wendy took in the whole scene, but Hook barely seemed to be aware of the battle; his eyes were searching the bloody sky for only one thing. In the instant that he found it, it, too, found him. Wendy was aware of Peter hurtling towards them at a terrible speed, then he was upon Hook and the two of them were fighting tooth and nail, their swords flashing and jarring against one another with brutal rapidity. Something of a lull took place among the lost boys and crew at the sight of this duel; though they continued in swordplay, it was really only for appearances. Secretly they were all trying to catch a glimpse of their two leaders locked in combat.

Hook was unrecognisable to Wendy. His teeth were bared and his lip curled into a snarl, his eyes were blazing an unholy red as he struck at the boy, who was the same as ever. Wendy remembered why she had feared the pirate captain so much; but, for the first time, she saw, too, why it was Hook hated Peter with such maniacal intensity. It was the cockiness of the boy, and the infernal, terrible joy that came with it. As he fought, he laughed, taunted, jeered and flew about the head of the pirate. It was enough to enrage the dourest of foes.

The captain, though, was not going to lose this most anticipated moment. He maintained mastery over himself and, although furious, was never wild. The time had come.

'Why the attack this time, Pan?' he shouted to the airborne lad.

'You have kidnapped a lady, you dog, and I shall rescue her!' was the exuberant reply. Still engaged in hammering combat, the pirate continued.

'Tis, true, brat; tis true. I thought thou wouldst come to her aid. The lady you seek stands behind me. Dost thou not think her beautiful?'

'She is old.'

'Yet you still rescue her? Such gallantry! Tell me, pustule, dost her face seem familiar to thee?'

'If I look properly at her face you will kill me' laughed Peter.

'Most probably. Still, 'tis a shame thou wilt not gaze upon her. She is a beauty indeed, and has been wondrous kind to me all through her sojourn on the Jolly Roger.'

'Ha, then I will rescue your friend and take her to my home instead, and you will be alone alone alone, Old Man!'

Wendy was beginning to feel distinctly uneasy at Hook's words, yet she could not tear herself away from the scene and watched with mixed dread and excitement.

'Your words cut me, boy', Hook was shouting, 'but you are right. She has been a friend to me. A boon companion. ' Suddenly he pulled Wendy before him so that she stood face to face with Peter.

'But was this fine lady not _your_ friend once?'

Pan lowered his sword and grinned as he looked at her. 'None of my friends are grown up.'

'Indeed' purred Hook. 'Look closer, Pan. You will find a friend, I'm sure.'

With a broad smile still on his face, Pan flew around her, gazing intently. It was not until their eyes locked that he realised. His grin faded into a look of horror and his voice faltered.

'No,' he whispered, '_Wendy?_'


	12. Something Changed

Chapter 12

Something Changed

The boy sank from the air like hopelessness, gaping the treachery of it all.

'How could you?' he trembled. 'You promised you would never grow up Wendy, never.'

Wendy looked at the distraught little boy and wondered what on earth she could say.

'I'm so sorry, Peter' she sighed softly, 'I couldn't help it.'

Peter was clearly on the verge of real tears, but his voice took on a malignant tone.

'Oh, but you could have helped becoming like _him_.' He pointed at Hook. 'You didn't have to be his friend. I am his enemy! You were supposed to be our mother, but you are ugly and spoiled and grown up, Wendy; and if you are friends with that Old Man then I hate you as much as him.' He burst into tears then, throwing his sword to the ground. Wendy instinctively rushed forward to comfort him, but he pushed her away as hard as he could with a pitiable cry.

'How spoiled you are now, Wendy' he sobbed, 'How could you?'

Captain Hook, who had been watching the scene unfold before him much as one might watch a banquet being laid out, was smirking uncontrollably and unforgivably. The boy's tears, every one of them, were balm to his charred soul; and he perceived Peter's utter humiliation with callous delight.

'Dear dear, it would appear that our extraordinary boy feels _loss_.' he sneered. Leaning close to Peter, his voice lowered into bitter whisper. 'It hurts, does it not, Pan?'

'I hate you,' wept Peter.

'Bad form, whelp, very bad form. 'Tis not I that thou should hate. I merely show thee the truth! Dost thou imagine that I tricked thy precious Wendy into her present state? Dost thou imagine that I had to force or cajole her to be this _woman_ you see before you in pirate's clothes? Pan, she was everything you despise before I even laid eyes on her. She _wanted_ to grow up.'

'Stop it, stop it please!' cried Wendy, attempting to come between them; but Hook interjected without so much as looking at her.

'Smee; Starkey!' he barked, 'Remove her.' The pirates, who were now making no attempt to do anything other than watch the captain and his nemesis, seized Wendy at once and held her as she struggled.

Hook continued in a mocking tone.

'You perceive, boy, that dear Wendy was able to deny none of what I said. Alas, 'twould appear that she really has ceased to care for you. Now, to business. I mean to kill you, of course; however, I shall do so sportingly, at least. Thus, we duel. My handicap is that I, _as per usual_' (he muttered those last words through his teeth) 'fight with my left hand. Yours, if indeed it can be called a handicap, is that you won't be able to fly in your present emotional state.' He smiled magnanimously and bowed to Peter, who was wiping his nose on the back of his wrist and glowering through his tears with an expression of intense loathing.

'Proud and insolent boy, prepare to meet thy doom.' Hook growled wryly.

'Dark and sinister man,' said Peter, quivering with rage, 'have at thee.'

They fell to. Wendy, unable to do anything other than watch, redoubled her attempts to break free of Gentleman Starkey's firm grip. She felt unutterably stupid and betrayed. How could she possibly have thought that she held Hook's regard? Why would she have wanted it? He had used her, had trapped her, and his kindness had been but a façade that he could use to hurt and defeat Peter. It had only ever been about Peter, really; and now she was to be instrumental in his death, for, as she watched the two of them fight, it was abundantly clear that Hook had the best of it. Peter's attempts to defend himself were ever more feeble, and Hook, sensing victory, began to taunt the boy.

'Do you know,' he said as their swords clashed, 'I believe I might have time to teach you another lesson.' They duelled on, Hook's advantage becoming more and more effortless. 'It shall be called…' he sneered as he casually disarmed the boy, 'Empathy.'

With a sudden upwards swipe, the pirate's blade struck not Pan's chest, but his right arm. There was a fanatical crimson in Hook's exultant eyes as he saw Peter's hand disconnect from his wrist, to fall bloodily to the deck. He laughed.

For an instant, Pan simply stared at the man in disbelief; then he sank to his knees, finally beaten. Clutching at his mutilated wrist, he howled.

Wendy, finally subdued by the futility and shock of it all, began to cry; Smee, too, had to brush a tear away from his eye as he looked on at the wretched child; and even Starkey turned his face away in pity. Only one man stood as compassionless and cold as stone. Jas. Hook eyed the boy with nothing more than hatred and contempt, and steeliness clouded over him as he stalked towards the weeping, shivering Peter Pan.

'Now you know how it feels.' he breathed 'And now my revenge would be complete, were it not for the fact that I know you, boy, and I know that you would forget your lesson, your pain, and even your wound. You will never change, nor ever repent, and will be the same implacably arrogant, cocky little tyrant as ever you were- should I let you live. Thus, Peter Pan, I will kill you now.' A vindictive smile alighted on his lips as Peter gazed up at him wide eyed.

'Ah, be not affrighted, lad.' he purred sardonically. 'I am sure that to die will be an awfully big adventure.'

Hook hoisted the broken child into the air with his left arm as serene as a willow but his claw was twitching and glinting, and the pupils of his forget-me-not eyes were scarlet.

In such a delirium of murderous intent, we should scarce have thought the pirate receptive to anything other than his own lust; but the staggering truth is that Hook, even as he raised his arm to cast the fatal blow, stole the tiniest, almost instinctive glance in Wendy's direction. What followed can, I believe, be put down solely to this most providential of lapses. We must suppose that something in Wendy's truly agonised countenance resonated somewhere in the shadowy soul of this man, for in the midst of his all-conquering rage, he did the unthinkable- he paused. For an excruciating, ageless moment, nothing more happened; it was as though all on board had met with the Medusa. Hook swallowed, and focussed again on the powerless boy in his grasp, positively shaking with intensity. But his mad hatred of Peter was being consumed by a different emotion altogether; one that made him ache to his marrow. The psychotic gleam in his eye died, and in that instant he let go of Peter, who thudded to the deck with a whimper.

The gasp that met this sight was audible to all but Hook, who stood before his vanquished foe in a daze. Despite the tantalising prospect of cleaving the child to the brisket as he lay prostrate at his feet, he was becoming unsure, and his concentration was ebbing. It was to the Captain as though Peter Pan was melting away, and what was left was nothing but a distraught, terrified and wounded little boy.

'What art thou, Peter Pan?' he murmured in a cracked voice. Peter did not answer at first, such were his tears. Then, in a sob as plaintive as any he had ever used, he answered.

'I don't know. I am nothing- a child; only a child.' And he shed ever more bitter tears.

Hook gazed at him, and was transported back to a summer long forgotten; glorious light over the playing fields of school, and an empty dormitory, where another boy was crying. He could not remember why.

'Get up, boy.'

Peter obeyed, trembling with defeat, to watch Hook turn on his heel and make slowly for his cabin door.

'Leave here, Pan,' he ordered, 'Leave here, with the knowledge that I beat you, and I spared you; and may I never see you again.'

With all on deck staring at him aghast, Hook wandered into his quarters as calm and silent as snow, and shut the door behind him.

The inconceivable abruptness of the man's departure completely threw both the pirates and the lost boys, who stood about on deck bemused, hardly knowing what to do with themselves. Peter, still reeling from the fear and pain of it all, simply sat down again. He had lost a lot of blood through Hook's attack, and Wendy was terribly concerned lest he should die for want of it. Finding Starkey's grasp loosen on her as he gaped confusedly at the abortive battleground, she ran to Peter and bound his wrist as tight as she could in strips she tore from her shirt. Pan, who had stopped crying, looked at her, sniffed, and asked with genuine hope

'Can't you sew it back on as you did my shadow, Wendy?'

It fair broke the sensitive girl's heart to tell him no, that not even the most skilled pirate surgeon in Neverland could sew a hand back on. You never saw a lad look so disheartened; poor Peter's lip began to quiver slightly.

'But,' said Wendy, searching desperately for something to cheer him, 'the stars have powerful magic, don't they Peter; and you are friends with all of them. They might be able to fix your hand.'

Stale and saccharine little consolation as it was, the boy brightened at it; indeed, Wendy was a little disturbed at how soon he was restored to something approaching his old self. Above and beyond this, however, she was flabbergasted at Hook's deliberate sparing of Peter's life. At that moment, she neither knew nor cared why it had happened; but, in the midst of her betrayal, a grain of hope that perhaps the man was not all bad was beginning to flutter in her breast. She wished with all her heart to think the best of him.

It would be tedious to go through the details of how, bit by bit and with that awkward fear of eye contact that comes after a fight, the lost boys and Peter left the pirates. Pan did not ask Wendy to come with them, nor did she have any desire to do so. It is strange how real life can reverse what was the most fortified desire in one's imagination, and how quickly our heroes are shattered upon deeper knowledge of them.

* * *

Hook, sick from revenge and reeling from his second ever experience of mercy, had entered his chamber with the stoniest of expressions; had half knelt, half collapsed by his bed; and remained there as still as a mausoleum, staring past his surroundings. The emotion of which he feared but a single drop was crashing around him, and it hurt.

* * *

It could well have been hours before he heard a tapping on his door, and then a footstep behind him, which awoke Hook from his reverie. The fizzy, yearning sort of silence that closes in when something important is about to happen stole up around him. Wendy had had so many questions, and was so torn between wanting to hold him and wanting to hurt him that she could not bear it, had finally given in and come to the Captain's chamber. But she was in no mood to be gentle yet. 

'You tricked me and used me, Captain Hook.' she announced coldly. 'And I know why you did it. But I cannot fathom, sir, _how_ you could do it; assuming, of course that you ever did feel anything but lust.'

We can be proud of Wendy at that moment, for how fiery and aloof she was; a tower of righteous indignation. (And yet, I hear you say, desperate for a good explanation as well.)

Hook was stung by her reprimand and rose to his feet, evidently searching for words.

'I know not how I could have been so callous, so utterly unfeeling towards thee' he said eventually. 'All I do know is that my desire to see Pan dead had... _has_ ruined me; and I can only honestly answer thee by saying that it was such an all-encompassing obsession, or madness, that even thyself took second place to it.' His voice became a little more robust, a little more urgent.

'Before you censure me entirely, however, do allow me to tell thee, Wendy, that it was thy countenance alone which stayed my hand. In the moment I glimpsed thee, I saw what I had done to the only thing I valued beyond my pride; and I saw myself. It disgusted me. All at once, 'twas as though the scales fell from my eyes. Something changed. I realised that Pan, whom I had entirely defeated; Pan, in all his infuriating arrogance and sweet humiliation, was nothing but a stunted, wretched little shred of hopelessness. He reminded me of myself long ago- and I could pity him for that alone. Had I killed him, I truly would have become what I most detested- for 'tis undoubtedly what he would have done to me.' He sighed, and his tone drooped once more.

'Ah, yet again, I digress. You may leave me now, Miss Darling; heaven knows I have done nothing to deserve thy company. But I am sorry. I am so very sorry for all of it.' Strong man though he was, the fount of his tears had been touched, and he turned away lest she should see and think him contemptible.

Wendy had listened to all this with her head on one side. She realised how much it must have pained him to tell her this; and joy alighted in her as she finally knew he spoke the truth. She forgave him as readily as someone who wishes to bestow the most glittering of thimbles.

'I have no intention of leaving you, Captain', she began. 'Not until you have satisfied my curiosity.'

Hook inclined his head towards her.

'I wish to know', she said in a voice as teasing as it was tender, 'if this sorrow you speak of; this Remorse, if you will, has really enveloped you as you once claimed it would?'

'It has.' sighed Hook, quite in earnest.

'Then', whispered Wendy, taking his face in her hands 'are you no more?'

'I know not… Dear Wendy, can you ever forgive me?'

'I believe I can, Captain Hook,' she smiled. 'In fact, I believe I have. I was crying as much for you as for Peter as you fought, you know.' She kissed him softly on the mouth. 'And I do so want to love you.'

Again, Wendy kissed the man in her arms, her fingers running through his sable hair. His scent was surrounding her, and the warm tears on his cheek brushed onto her own as she pressed herself into him. Wendy ran her lips over the man's neck, who shivered with pleasure and held her tightly; and she kissed him once more, long and sweet.


	13. A Delicate Matter

Chapter 13

A Delicate Matter

Such blissful occurrences are ever too short-lived, and oddly enough it was Hook, this time, who pulled away from Wendy with a clouded brow.

'Why, whatever is the matter?' she asked, anxiously. Her face was bewildered; she could not fathom this sudden change of temperament.

'Alas Wendy I am troubled by you; I do not understand you' sighed Hook. 'When I think on what I have done, and would have done to you, it offends reason to know that you should forgive me so completely. Where is your anger, woman? Why have you not upbraided and punished me? 'Sdeath and oddsfish, I should be baying for blood if 'twere me; but you offer kisses rather than curses. It is unjust of you.'

Wendy looked at him and laughed.

'I know it is.' she said simply. 'But I don't care. I am not stupid, sir. I realised that only the most cataclysmic struggle could make you spare Peter's life. I had long been seeking evidence of your better self, and in that instant I truly found it. Despite my anger I was much in awe of you, Captain. You showed greater strength of character than most are capable of, I believe.'

'How so?' interjected Hook 'It felt like weakness to me.'

'You sacrificed vengeance and desire for mercy; a noble thing. Good Form, Father would call it.'

Good Form. How those words sank into Hook's heart!

'Besides', continued Wendy, 'I am so sick of grudges and revenge and punishment. They cannot make me happy. I suppose I am rather selfish; for in the end I am acting in my own interests. I desperately _wanted_ to understand and forgive you, because I… feel for you' (here she blushed and continued hurriedly) 'and I believed you when you apologised. That is all that needs be said.'

'But does it not still hurt, my dear?' asked Hook hesitantly

'Aye, it stings a little now,' admitted the woman. 'But it will pass away soon enough- if I let it. It's only a memory.' She reached to stroke one of his long curls. 'So don't let's talk of it anymore, please.'

I suppose if Hook were a wholly reformed character he would have shunned Wendy's affections as being bestowed on a most undeserving candidate, and punished himself with contrite and eternal solitude- it certainly occurred to him that this was probably the proper thing to do. However, high-minded scruples are slippery things at the best of times, and Hook, unused to them as he was, was powerless to hold onto them in the face of such temptation. He took Wendy up in his arms and, with many self-admonishments both spoken and unspoken, kissed her ardently.

It is no business of mine to reveal the minutiae of the fond moments which then ensued; how Hook explained to Wendy the process by which he had succumbed to her maidenly charms (a turn of phrase which made Wendy laugh aloud) and how bitterly he had struggled with himself for it. He was eager to make her amends; full of promises of truly angelic goodness, vowing never again to be angry, proud, hedonistic, or remotely interesting again in all his life; and he kissed her with such passion that she could have fainted away. She, in turn, confessed to him about having read the ship's log, and he let it go very magnanimously- indeed, he was hardly in a position not to. In a daze of bliss she left him, claiming that she needed rest, for the dawn was creeping in. Hook raised an eyebrow at this. Were it not such a scandalous thought, we might have supposed that he expected her to rest with him. Leave the man, however, Wendy did; but only after being made to vow that she would join him on the morrow as soon as she rose.

After the first really good night's sleep Wendy had enjoyed since her unceremonious arrival in the Neverland, she was much refreshed; though a little embarrassed to find that it was well past noon when she awakened. The memories of the evening before seemed very distant now- a fact which relieved her rather, for she had no desire to relive any of it. She visited Hook, as promised; who was less formally attired than usual, wearing only boots, britches and shirt. He greeted her with an embrace and a reprimand.

'I had rather hoped, slugabed, that thou would have arisen earlier; for I am presently engaged in a most time-consuming matter and shall have no opportunity to converse.'

'What is that?' asked Wendy.

'Why, we are to set sail for England as soon as may be; and I am needed to finalise arrangements and oversee the slovenly drabble who form my excuse for a crew.'

'For England?' gasped Wendy, paling a little. 'Are you to leave me, then?'

'I promised I should return thee, Miss Darling.' said Hook, reasonably. 'Whether or not I leave you, however, is for you to decide.' He shot her a look which made her shiver, before continuing blithely 'We should be well on our way by evening, and Starkey can take over the helm if you wish to join me for dinner this evening.'

'I should like that very much' nodded Wendy, 'but, in the meantime, can I not be of any help to you and the crew?'

Hook was unable to hold back a smile, which he attempted to hide by stroking his jaw.

'Alas, my beauty; Anne Bonney thou art not. I fear your slender arms would be a hindrance, and fine figure more than a distraction to my men. Speaking of which' he purred imperiously, 'Come here.'

Wendy spent the afternoon in something of an agony of frustrated expectation. She could not focus on anything, and went up on deck several times only to find that the Captain was in his cabin studying charts and compasses with the quartermaster, and, as Smee put it 'not te be disturbed if ye know what's good fer yeh.' Hook, on the other hand, had been given a new lease of life. Naturally, there had been murmurs among the brigands of the Jolly Roger that he had lost his mettle after the incident with Pan; but he silenced them all that day with a consistent display of tyrannical authority so threatening that Long John Silver himself would have quaked in his boot. The other rumour, and one harder to suppress, was the assumption of the crew that Hook had taken Wendy as his mistress. This led to an unfortunate incident in which the ship's carpenter, emboldened and reckless with the joy of leaving Neverland, made an unrepeatable joke about Wendy while Hook was narrowly within earshot. Slowly, the Captain turned around.

'What was that, Hawkins?' enquired Hook softly.

The pirates stiffened with horror. Hawkins himself made a sort of gasping noise, trying in vain to speak.

'Well?' came Hook's velvety voice again.

'I…I…it was n-nothing' croaked poor Hawkins, turning the colour of sour milk.

'Really?' said Hook as if he spoke in syrup. 'My hook says otherwise. Thou art lucky that I am a changed man, Hawkins,' he whispered, advancing on his prey. 'Had I overheard such a slur but two days ago I would have flogged thee to within an inch of thy life. As it is, I will be gracious, and we shall say no more about it.' He smiled coldly.

Hawkins fell to his knees and choked out gratitude, but the crew remained uneasy.

'Pray don't mention it' said Hook in a voice oozing politeness. 'But as a gesture of thy goodwill, let us shake hands.'

Hawkins froze.

'Please,' he began feverishly, 'please sir-'

'Shake hands, Hawkins.'

But Hawkins, immobilised with terror, merely shook.

'You refuse?' asked Hook in mock surprise, 'My my; that is Bad Form. Very well, the cat-o-nine-tails it is. Fetch it, Smee.' He made to leave. 'And if I ever hear you mention Miss Darling's name again I shall cut out your tongue and have you keel-hauled.'

In a way it is comforting to know that our lovelorn anti-villain had not lost all of his previous vim and vigour; and doubtless, Wendy would agree. All things considered, however, it is probably for the best that she did not witness this particular display of gallantry. Fortunately, it was the only incident of note in an otherwise highly successful start to the long voyage back to London, so we shall move swiftly on.

By the time the sun was hanging low in the sky, the Jolly Roger, shimmering with fairy dust and buoyant with happy thoughts, was sailing serenely through the air. Wendy, who had climbed a long way up the rigging that she might get the best possible view of her last vision of Neverland, sighed to herself in the golden-red light. Though she would inevitably miss it in the years to come, she was not really sorry to be leaving, particularly under such happy circumstances. The remembrance of past joys, however, is very much akin in feeling to melancholy; and so it was silently, contemplatively that Wendy kissed goodbye to the dream-world of her childhood as the sky grew deeper and bloodier. She knew not how long had passed before she heard the benevolent and somewhat plaintive call of Smee below her, and realised that her most anticipated hour had arrived.

Wendy, wearing the dress that the Captain had given her, entered Hook's cabin that evening with quickened pulse, not at all knowing what to expect. Her mother had always been full of helpful advice on how to behave when in the company of a _beau_; but talk of dance-cards, charity dinners and the weather seemed to our heroine to be flatly inappropriate when the fellow in question was a notorious pirate who had taken her captive aboard his flying brig. To be fair, Mrs Darling could be forgiven for not foreseeing that her daughter's choice of suitor should fall into this category.

As it turned out, any nerves Wendy may have had were immediately dispersed upon seeing the Captain, who, in keeping with his permanent air of distinction, was the epitome of erudite charm and good manners. Majestically dressed with jet black hair shining and blue eyes gleaming, Wendy felt very much as she had when first she laid eyes on him- he entranced her. Hook rose to greet her with an uncharacteristically chaste kiss on the cheek, before seating her at table and engaging in the sort of pleasantries which are the inevitable prelude to the thing one actually wishes to say or do. Wendy, too much beguiled to be fully suspicious of his immaculate behaviour, did at least try to keep in mind parental warnings about the "debauched appetites of unscrupulous males"; but such thoughts only served to make her blush pleasurably and bite at her lip, which Hook, in turn, found so distracting that his own debauched appetites were inflamed far more than if Wendy had received no caution in the first place. Each of them, in fact, found it increasingly difficult to suppress the strength of their feelings; but Hook (devious and calculating man that he was) considered that it was only a matter of time before she would be his, and so chose to amuse himself in the mean time by teasing and flirting with the captivated girl quite mercilessly.

'You do look flustered, Wendy' he remarked with mock concern 'Are you feeling entirely well?'

Wendy gulped and reddened further. 'Yes, yes quite well thank you Captain' she replied in a voice that was too bright to be credible.

'Do call me James, my love. I shall be James to thee hereafter'

At length, and after a meal for which neither party had much appetite, Hook poured Wendy a drink.

'Wilt thou sit up with me a while?' he asked softly 'I would fain have the pleasure of your company for a little longer.' The clumsiness of the pretext was almost humorous to him, but she agreed readily and they soon adjourned from the table; moving, with a dreamlike sense of inevitability, towards the bed, which lay invitingly in the corner of the room.

Wordlessly, deliberately, Hook drew the girl near as they stood at the foot it. For Wendy to be thus enfolded in the arms of her beloved was sweet indeed; his tender kisses made her heart beat like a butterfly. She shivered with delight as they grew hungrier, as the pirate's lips met her soft throat and his hand slid down to her bodice. Hook, fully aware of what he was doing, was revelling in Wendy's response to his embrace. He ran his teeth across her neck, which made her moan deliciously, and his caresses became ever more sensual as he began to undo the buttons of her dress. The aroma of her warm body rose as the garment fell to the floor.

'Come lie down with me, my beauty' he whispered in her ear. 'For what I desire is no mere kiss.'

Wendy was quite at a loss to know how to respond, such was the thumping of her blood. She gazed up at the man, who was gently stroking her cheek with the very tip of his finger and surveying her frame with an insolent expression of anticipation.

'Wendy Darling,' he murmured again in a low growl, seating her on the eiderdown and removing his jacket, 'you are quite exquisite.'

Wendy pressed herself close to him as they reclined together. Hook, leaning over her to receive her abundant kisses and plant his own on her chest and shoulders, began to run his hand along her thigh. Secure in the knowledge that that the young woman in his bed was positively glowing with pleasure, he slowly cut through the ribbons of her corset with his hook, finding it impossible to conceal a slight smile of satisfaction as he did so.

We now come to deal with a delicate matter. It may well occur to you that these were not the actions of a man whose intentions were strictly honourable, and you would be right. Wendy had been taught from a young age that the salacious overtures of predatory men ought to be met with polite yet firm rejection, and we should have loved to write of her that she unhanded him haughtily and upbraided him for his impropriety. Unfortunately, this is by no means what happened. Dear reader, do not judge our heroes too harshly. Hook, you understand, had not yet fully grasped his newfound virtue, and, as we can see, certain facets of it still eluded him entirely. Wendy, for her part, was thus at the mercy of a past master in the art of inveigling naïve young women into his bed; and the two of them were very much in love. I am sorry to say that on that very night, Hook seduced Wendy without any difficulty at all. Over the details of this incident, we shall draw a tactful veil; indeed, such scandalous subject matter is hardly appropriate for print, and any upstanding readership would surely blanch to see it here. Instead let us leave it, if anywhere, to the ever fruitful faculty of imagination, and suffice it to say that when Wendy awoke the next morning, she was wrapped her lover's arms, whose face, still carrying the ghost of a smile, was buried in her hair.


	14. An Awfully Big Adventure

Chapter 14

An Awfully Big Adventure

As the first rosy harbingers of morning shone around the cabin, Hook awoke but did not initially open his eyes; instinctively enfolding Wendy closer and leaning forward to breathe in her scent instead. He feared that it was all but a dream, and meant to hold onto it as long as possible before it was dashed by day. The memory of the night before surged through his body delightfully, and his brow furrowed a little as he tried to relive it all. Such bliss. Such unadulterated pleasure. He grinned despite himself, sighing contentedly as the girl nestled into him. Contentment, now there was something he hadn't felt in a long time.

'James.' He heard her murmur as she turned around to stroke his cheek.

'Yes?'

Wendy still had her eyes closed and breathed out her words drowsily as though somewhere between waking and dreaming.

'I love you.'

Hook's eyes closed as though he was trying to hold the words as long as possible. It was, you see, the first time they had ever been addressed to him.

* * *

That morning, quite probably the happiest of Jas Hook's life, passed all too quickly, and soon he was back on deck with his lover at his side. The Jolly Roger cut through the thick cloud beneath her as she approached London, leaving all on board to enjoy the endless sky-scape of white and blue and gold.

Wendy had not spoken for a long time, but now she meandered around a subject which had long interested her.

'I suppose Mother and Father will be pleased to see me again.'

'I expect so my beauty, yes.'

Then the real question:

'Have you any family?'

'None surviving, I should think.' said Hook without emotion. 'If what you tell me is true and the dawn of the twentieth century has been and gone, I have been at sea longer than most people live.'

'Do you not mourn them a little?' enquired Wendy, somewhat surprised at his indifference.

'Not especially, dearest. I had no brothers or sisters, and hold precious little memory of my father.'

'What about your mother?'

'My mother… yes, I remember her.' His gaze drifted into the distance.

'What was she like?'

'She was always so tired.' he frowned, 'That is what I remember most- a beautiful, weary lady who raised her child as the burden he undoubtedly was.'

'Why a burden?'

'Ever the barrage of questions!' he exclaimed, 'Brimstone and gall, thou art an inquisitive wench. I don't believe I was ever very dear in my mother's eyes; the produce and reminder of what must have been a most unhappy marriage. My father lived nearly all his life with his mistress, and Mother, broken by depression and desertion, I fear, was left with me.' He gave a short, suppressed laugh. 'Of course, I was utterly devoted to her. It was when at school that things changed; she never once visited me, and I spent every vacation with my aunt Emily. I remember the ritual misery and humiliation at the beginning of the holidays, being left behind as the other boys enjoyed the company and indulgences of their parents. So I let my mother fade away and clung to the College instead, just as its traditions still cling to me like garments. _Floreat Etona!_' (he proclaimed the words flamboyantly) 'It was the best parent I knew, and I shall be forever grateful.'

'Did you and your mother ever reconcile?'

'No. I never spoke to her after I took to sea, for she disowned me. Not without due cause, I hasten to add. She will, naturally, always have a hold on my heart that surpasseth reason, and I understand as I did not before why she behaved as she did when I was a child. But I am a touch embittered also. The legacy of my parents is a son who must claim a school cricket match as the proudest moment of his whole life.'

Wendy would not let this go unchallenged; 'Do you mean to say that you hold your parents responsible for the course of your life? That seems monstrously unfair, James. You made your own decisions, surely?'

'As have you, Wendy.' he replied sharply 'But you still blame your parents for your tedious, confined little existence, do you not?' Wendy stared at the floor as he continued. 'Of course I made my own decisions; and I do not pretend to acquit myself on a plea of parental neglect; but memories and childhood run deep and influence the rest of our lives implacably- at least, they certainly have done with me. That is all I meant.'

Wendy leaned over in a reconciliatory manner, holding his hand and resting her cheek on his arm.

'Sorry.' muttered Hook after a moment. 'Heaven knows I am no position to insult thy way of life.'

'No no, you're right. It is a "tedious, confined little existence" mused Wendy. 'I think I should have suffocated had it not been for Neverland; I dread coming back home in many ways.'

'Why is that? I was under the impression that you wished beyond anything to return to the bosom of your family.'

'I do.' She flushed and fidgeted with her sleeve, refusing to look her lover in the eye. 'Well, it's difficult. I mean, in some respects, of course it's perfectly wonderful, but… You know, I am awfully bored most of the time, really, and being with you has been a breath of fresh air. You are able to excite me as nobody else of my acquaintance does; you do not patronise me or disregard my character in favour of my social graces. I fear to think of the next few weeks, uncertain as they are…' she lapsed into silence, gazing rather fixedly at the balustrade.

'What do you mean?' enquired the pirate

Wendy was clearly loath to speak, but found the requisite courage.

'Will you leave me after I get home?'

She did not look at Hook, her eyes reflecting only the glory of the afternoon sky. Then she added- 'I don't want you to.' Her pain must have been hidden well, for Hook looked for a moment as though he was going to grin. He put his arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheek.

'Wendy, if thou would have me stay,' he said firmly, 'I would do so forever.'

Wendy looked at him with hesitation.

'Really?'

'Yes, by carbonate of soda, yes of course!' he laughed exasperatedly. 'Split my infinitives woman, surely it is plain enough that I adore you? These past weeks have been agony; do not torment me further with your mock-doubt when my sincerest wish is for you- ' he stopped himself.

'Is for me to what?'

'Marry me.'

A prolonged, pregnant silence.

'Well?' asked Hook eventually, in higher tones than could normally be attributed to him. 'What say you?'

'What say I to a man who has kidnapped me, seduced me and nearly sent my childhood sweetheart to a grisly death?' queried Wendy with suppressed amusement, before breaking into a smile which alit her countenance. 'I say yes. A hundred times yes, dear James.'

* * *

The arrival was made with as little ceremony as possible. Hook said goodbye to his crew with, for the most part, unalloyed disdain, leaving Starkey in charge of the Jolly Roger. Smee was accorded different treatment as befitted his status as the captain's only real friend. Wendy threw her arms around him and said quite sincerely that she would miss him and that he must come to the wedding, and Hook patted him on the back and called him 'old boy'. The tender-hearted bosun became tearful and said he would write the Captain every month with news of their buccaneering, until Hook reminded him rather callously that he was illiterate. But he was touched nonetheless.

Needless to state, Mr and Mrs Darling were overjoyed to see Wendy back. They had been beside themselves with worry and Hook's ransom note had stuck terror into their hearts- I do not think that Mr Darling ever believed he would see his daughter again. Their reaction to Hook was, of course, very different. As he emerged onto the doorstep with a low bow, Mrs Darling went very white and Mr. Darling very red; his lips clenched tightly together as though trying to suppress an explosion of rage. It overcame him.

'Blackguard! Fiend! Kidnap my daughter, would you? I shall see you hang. I shall have you deported. I shall challenge you to a duel!'

'I wouldn't, if I were you.' said Hook, coolly surveying the man. 'Now, please, dear sir, do allow me to apologise to you and your good wife. I am dreadfully sorry for any distress I may have caused you, and have come to return your daughter, as promised. I also wish to ask you for her hand in marriage.'

Whatever they were expecting it was not that.

'Wendy!' Mrs Darling shrieked. 'Surely you are not in love with this fellow?'

'Mother, Father, please don't fret,' cried Wendy, 'It is not as strange as it seems. James is really a very sweet man.'

They took a deal of convincing on this point. Even after acquiescing to their daughter's request and acknowledging that Hook was for the most part a changed person (as well as very wealthy and of impeccable breeding) they were still extremely uncomfortable that Wendy should choose him as a husband. As Mr Darling put it wretchedly to his wife;

'What are we to do, Mary? Our daughter's fiancée is not only a criminal, not only an amputee, not only old enough to be her father, but, to cap it all, a _Catholic_! What will the neighbours say?'

They were married, however, and without much of a fuss. Most weddings are by and large indistinguishable from one another, so we shall skip the predictable details and say only that the occasion was most joyous for everybody- except one. This unseen and uninvited guest was less than pleased about the whole affair, although he soon forgot thereafter. Peter alighted on the church spire that he may watch the hideous proceedings from a safe distance; his defiance tempered by another surge of loss as he saw his mother, his Wendy on the arm of his most hated opponent.

'But then,' he reasoned 'What need have I of weddings? I want always to be a little boy and to have fun.'

So perhaps he thought, but it was only his greatest pretend.

Uncharitable as it may be to suggest such a thing, I would think it plausible that on leaving the church with his bride James Hook may have caught a fleeting glimpse of the boy as he flew away, and smiled to himself inwardly that his revenge should ultimately have been inadvertent. But he was altogether too happy to dwell on such things, and thought instead of his new wife, whose hidden kiss was at that moment plainly, mockingly visible.

It only remains, I suppose, to give something of an epilogue to our story. Marriage exceeded Wendy's expectations considerably; misunderstandings and upsets were, of course, not entirely lacking, but they were few and far between. It was in 1914 that the blissful life they had known began to change, for, amid political upheavals and nationalist power struggles, Europe was plunged into the most dreadful war the world had ever seen. The subject soon became an anathema to Wendy's husband, such was his humiliation- Hook, as may be expected, wished to fight honourably, I think he believed it would help make amends for the days when he would swear 'Down with the King.' As an amputee, however, he was barred from active service, which cut him deep and knocked his pride considerably. Wendy tried very hard to do her patriotic duty in feeling as ashamed as Hook did, but secretly she raised her eyes heavenwards in thanks that her husband was safe.

It was during the war that Wendy gave birth to a baby girl, whom she and her husband named Jane. She was in all respects her mother's daughter, apart from her eyes, which were tinged with the forget-me-not melancholy of her father, and he simply doted on her. Hard it was for Hook, then, when there came the fateful night of Peter's return to the nursery (Wendy having adopted her parents' house).

The boy flew into the room with a crow, not, at first, seeing Wendy, who was darning by the dim firelight. Ever full only of happy thoughts, he had no memory of their last meeting in Neverland, and wept anew on seeing Wendy grown up and with a child. It was hard for Wendy to know she was such a disappointment to he who had marked her childhood so indelibly with his image, indeed, she almost felt guilty for having been selfish enough to grow up, seeing his distress. Peter had beheld the sleeping Jane with noisy sobs, which awoke the girl from her slumber.

'Boy, why are you crying?' asked Jane, as if pretending to be Wendy all those years ago. Peter rose and bowed to her, and she bowed to him from the bed.  
'Hello,'he said.  
'Hello,' said Jane.  
'My name is Peter Pan,' he told her.  
'Yes, I know.'

How forlorn Wendy felt in allowing Jane to fly away with Peter, when her maternal instinct cried out 'Keep her here!' and the child in her cried 'Take me instead!' But let them go she did, watching their ever diminishing figures fly into the horizon. They had not given her a second thought, of course, for children never do.

She returned, a little melancholy, to her husband, and told him of what had passed, looking guiltily at the floor as she did so for fear of meeting his eye. As may be expected, Hook was dismayed and angered at Wendy's decision, thinking with possessive rage of his cherished daughter falling into the clutches of 'That Boy'. He plunged his hook into a cushion and ripped it to shreds when she brought him the news, but otherwise maintained admirable self-control.

'To think of him- _Him_ gallivanting about the place with my own flesh and blood!' he growled. 'Oh, I'll tear him one of these days. Why did you not stop the brat, Wendy?'

'Oh James', she said apologetically, 'I am sorry- but I could never hold my children back from a place as wonderful as Neverland, it would not be fair.'

'Fair?' Hook repeated blankly 'What of the dangers?'

Wendy was trying to be contrite, but she raised an eyebrow at this.

'Is that question not a little ironic, dear? Surely the biggest danger in Neverland was always _you_.'

This remark was met with a highly grudging mumble of acknowledgement.

'Still,' said Wendy's husband, 'I do not feel comfortable letting Jane go off to such a place, with such a boy. I wish you had come to me first.'

'I think, under the circumstances, it was better that I did not.'

Hook allowed himself a smile.

'Besides,' continued Wendy, coming to sit beside him and playing with a tendril of his hair 'If I had never flown away on that first adventure- without my own parent's permission- I should never have known you, and both our lives would be the worse for that.' She was trying rather too obviously to placate him, but the attempt was endearing enough for Hook to relent.

'True. 'Twas on that accursed shore that first we met.' He softened as his thoughts drifted across his tumultuous past and happy present. 'I suppose Jane must be allowed to have her share of adventures too.'

'We have had ours, after all.'

'We have indeed.'

'And we shall continue to have them our lives long.' said Wendy, kissing him lightly on the mouth.

Hook held her close, and there was a smile on his face as he murmured

'Aye, my beauty, 'tis as you always say. To live would be an awfully big adventure.'

THE END

_A.N- I thought I'd take this opportunity to answer the questions that have been asked as I posted the story. This will mean an obnoxiously long author's note, so apologies in advance._

_There were a lot of questions on the narrative voice within the fic. Although I did not and could not attempt to copy Barrie's superlative style, I did want to capture some of the conversational tone he adopts in the novel and as the narrator in the play, hence why the narrative is peppered with first person interjections and opinions._

_The story was based on the novel __Peter and Wendy, the play __Peter Pan, and the short story __Captain Hook at Eton, all by J.M Barrie. I adore Barrie's Captain Hook and think he deserves a happier ending than being eaten by a crocodile!_

_The timeframe of the story is based around the idea that Wendy was 12 and met Peter Pan in 1904, when the play was first performed (as opposed to 1911 when the novel was first published)._

_I hope you enjoyed reading this; thank you so much to all of you who reviewed the story, it made all the difference as this is my first ever fanfiction._


End file.
